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154 West Randolph Street CHICAGO 



FIFTY-FIFTY 



FIFTY-FIFTY 

A Comedy in Three Acts 
of Life, Love and Mirth 
With a Bit of Adventure 
Into the Realms of Finance 



BY 

Newton Perkins 




CHICAGO 

T. S. DENISON & COMPANY 

Publishers 



J 






(Please Read Carefully 




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COPYRIGHT, 1918, BY T. S. DENISON & COMPANY 
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED 



©CI.D 50163 
AUG 14 I9r8 



^w^ I 



FIFTY- FIFTY 

A COMEDY IN THREE ACTS FOR SIX MEN AND EIGHT WOMEN 

CAST OF CHARACTERS. 

{In order of their appearance.) 

Henry Brown An Artist 

Paul. Green An Author 

Patrick O'Malley A Tailor 

Mrs. Olesen A Laundress 

Mrs. Podge A Landlady 

Sophie Bland's Daughter 

May Blossom Her Friend 

Mrs. Plunk A Chaperone 

WiLEARD Bland A Father 

loNA LoTTs An Agent 

Smudge A Valet 

Bill A Wanderer 

RoxANA Wheatpitt An Heiress 

SuzANE Spriggins Henry' s Aunt 



Time : The Present. 
Place : New York City. 



Act I. The Pals' studio, morning. 
Act II. The same. Late the next morning. 
Act HI. The Pals' Bungalow in the Adirondacks. 
One month later. Afternoon. 



Time of Playing — About two hours. 

5 



FIFTY-FiFTY 



THE STORY OF THE PLAY. 

Two pals, Henry Brown an Artist, and Paul Green 
a Playwright, have cast their lots together and are 
living in obscurity and cheerful poverty in an attic 
bedroom. They live on the "Fifty-Fifty" plan, even 
to the extent of taking turns wearing one suit of 
clothes, one pair of shoes and so forth. They do not 
however, go fifty-fifty on a sweetheart for each one 
has his own and is devoted to her and his art. 

They are without living relatives except Henry 
who has an Aunt living in London. When the play 
opens their poverty has reached an acute stage. The 
Landlady, the Tailor and the Laundress are all 
clamoring for their money and Paul conceives the 
doubtfully brilliant idea of inserting a notice in the 
newspapers that Henry's Aunt has died and left him 
a million, believing in a vague way that money 
attracts money and that they can make capital out 
of it. No sooner has Paul done this than Henry 
receives a letter from his Aunt saying that she is 
leaving for New York to spend her remaining years 
with him. 

In the meantime the Landlady informs Henry that 
the rent must be paid or they will be put out and 
refuses to take any more excuses. She is also look- 
ing for a husband and agrees to let the rent go if 
Henry will marry her. So Henry tells her that he is 
already married and makes Paul sign an agreement 
to marry her within thirty days. 

The next morning the news of Henry being left a 
million is out and things begin to happen. The 
Landlady gives them an extra room, better furni- 
ture and their creditors worry them no longer. Their 



FIFTY-FIFTY 



credit is now good for everything except something 
to eat. On the strength of the supposed inheritance^ 
Paul secures a valuable option which a little later he 
sells for twenty-five thousand dollars and it looks 
as though they were in a fair way to succeed when 
their two sweethearts learn that Paul is engaged to 
the Landlady and that Henry is supposed to be 
already married. 

A month later they are found living in an 
attractive bungalow in the Adirondacks ; Henry has 
orders for more pictures than he can paint and Paul 
has a play accepted. They are about to effect a 
reconciliation with their sweethearts when their 
former Landlady descends upon them to force Paul 
to marry her. At this point however, her husband 
whom she supposed to be lost at sea years ago, 
appears and Paul is free to marry the girl of his 
choice. 

The father of Henry's sweetheart will not consent 
to their marriage until Henry is worth one hundred 
thousand dollars, so in the nick of time, his Aunt 
Suzane from London, whom he supposed to be poor, 
arrives and proves to be very wealthy. She starts 
out by presenting him with a draft for one hundred 
thousand dollars and all the pals have to do to 
complete the happiness of all concerned is to explain 
that her death was greatly exaggerated. 



FIFTY-FIFTY 



LIST OF PROPERTIES. 
Act I. 

Palette and brush for Henry. 

Large sealed envelope containing letter and manu- 
script for Paul. 

Laundry bill for Mrs. Olesen. 
Tailor's bill for Mr. O'Malley. 
Letter for Mrs. Podge. 

Act II. 

Two suit boxes for Mr. O'Malley. 

Clothes basket with linen for Mrs. Olesen. 

Large photograph and bill of sale for lona Lotts. 

Six shoe boxes for Henry. 

Letter with check enclosed for Mrs. Podge. 

Check book for Mr. Bland. 

Act hi. 

Tray with bottle of Scotch, glasses and seltzer. 

Bottle for Smudge. 

Letter for Smudge. 

Letter with check enclosed for Paul. 

Folded sheet of paper for Mrs. Podge. 

Hand bag for Aunt Suzane. 

Bank Draft for Aunt Suzane. 

Two folded sheets of paper for lona Lotts. 

Dish and dish cloth for Paul. 



COSTUMES AND CHARACTERISTICS. 

Henry Brown — A sprightly young fellow, good 
looking and likable. Fast talker and quick in action. 
Optimistic as a rule but sometimes inclined to looTc 
at things in a serious way. Act I, he wears old 



FIFTY-FIFTY 



lounging-robe, flannel shirt and dilapidated slippers. 
Act II, he is attired in neat, stylish clothes through- 
out, with the exception of his feet, which are still 
encased in the old slippers. 

Paul Green — Almost a counterpart of Henry, 
but seldom inclined to be serious. In Act I he wears 
a much worn business suit, turn down collar and 
black flowing tie. Act II and III, stylish clothing. 

WiLLARD Bland — Robust old gentleman of about 
fifty-five. Brusque in speech and rough in manners, 
rather illiterate. Wears good clothes. 

Sophie — Sweet, lovable girl of about nineteen. 
Wears appropriate gowns throughout. 

May Blossom — A pretty girl of eighteen. Charm- 
ing manners and always exquisitely attired. 

Mrs. Podge — A comely woman of about thirty- 
five. Very stolid, with no idea of humor in her make- 
up. Wears neat gowns in Acts I and II. Grotesque 
wedding outfit in Act III. Great part. 

Mrs. Plunk — A society matron of about forty. 
Dresses stylishly. Rather haughty ^n manner but 
good-hearted withal. 

loNA LoTTS — About twenty-five years of age. A 
handsome, dashing bachelor maid type. Wears mod- 
ish tailor-made clothes, somewhat mannish in eff'ect. 
Brisk in speech and action. 

RoxANA Wheatpitt — Regulation old maid type ; 
sentimental and giggling. Handsome motoring cos- 
tume. 

Patrick O'IMalley — Irish character part ; age 
optional. Dresses in clothing as befits his occupa- 
tion. 

Mrs. Olesen — Buxom Swedish woman, about 
forty. 



10 



FIFTY-FIFTY 



SuzANE Spriggins — Sweet old lady, of about 
sixty. Dresses in black and old fashioned bonnet. 

Bill, — Typical "old salt." Wears rough clothing, 
blue flannel shirt and mate's cap. 

Smudge — Droll, young colored man. Wears white 
coat and long white apron. 



SCENE PLOT. 



Acts One and Two. 

Back Drop showing Sky and House Tops 



Door 
R.U.E. 



^ 



Window 



Easy Ghair 



D Table D Chair 
Chair 



Screen 



Easel 



D Box 



Dresser 








Act Three. 

Hall Backing 














/ 

Door 
R.U.E. 


Chair 
D 


n Chair Easel 


V O Stool 


\ 


Door 
L.U.E. 


/-^Fire-place 


Table 


\ 






\- 



STAGE DIRECTIONS. 

R. means right of stage; C, center; R. C, right 
center; L., left; 1 E., first entrance; U. E., upper 
entrance ; R. 3 E., right entrance, up stage, etc. ; up 
stage, away from footlights ; down stage, near foot- 
lights. The actor is supposed to be facing the 
audience. 



FIFTY-FIFTY 



The First Act. 

Scene : The joint studio of Henry Brown and Paui. 
Green in the attic of a cheap lodging house. A 
zmde, low window at back, showing view of house- 
tops beyond. Door at R. U. E. and L. 2 E. In 
L. U. corner is a bed, partially hidden from view 
of audience by large Japanese screen. Everything 
indicates extreme poverty of the occupants, al- 
though there is an apparent ejfort of keeping up 
appearances, by studio decorations. A dilapidated 
dresser, used for sideboard, is at L., with piece of 
black paper pasted on one side of mirror to give it 
a cracked effect. Bottles, most of them empty, 
cover its top. Old library table, on either side of 
which are old, rickety, straightbacked chairs, R. of 
C. It is littered with newspapers, writing material 
and a bunch of pawn tickets, an empty wine bottle, 
half loaf of bread, pipes and tobacco jar. An 
artist's easel, holding canvas, L. of C. On top of 
frame is tacked a photograph of young girl, a like- 
ness of Sophie, Henry's sweetheart. Ancient easy 
chair up R. Two or three old rugs on floor. 
Wooden box for stool just above easel. 

At rise, Henry is discovered at easel, brush in 
hand, working on canvas, Paul is seated R. of 
library table, busily writidg and puffing vigorously 
on pipe. Henry is attired in large, loose lounging 
robe, old trousers and large carpet slippers. Paul 
is dressed in shabby genteel business suit, turn down 
collar and flowing black tie; he is shirt-sleeved, coat 

11 



12 FIFTY-FIFTY 



hanging over hack of his chair. For about thirty 
seconds they work in silence. Then Henry stops 
work, leans back and surveys his painting with relief 
and satisfaction, without taking his eyes from the 
canvas, he speaks. 

Henry. 
I say, Paul. p^^^ 

(Not looking up from work.) 

Well? ^ 

Henry. 

Did you ever see a sea? 

Paul. 
(Amazed.) 
Did I ever see a what ? 

Henry. 

See a sea. Stop, I shall make it so plain that even 
you shall comprehend. Did you ever see an ocean? 
Don't answer. I can see that you have. You have 
been to Coney Island on two or possibly three occa- 
sions. But what I mean, is a regular ocean. Did 
you, for instance, ever see a mahogany sea? 

Paul. 

Never. tt 

Henry. 

(Flourishes brush at canvas.) 

Well, behold, I have one here, old top. 

Paul. 
(Rises, goes to canvas, surveys it.) 

Well, I'll be Say, what's the awful idea? 

(Laughs.) I don't get it myself. 

Henry. 
Poverty, old boy. I used up all my deep sea- 
going blue a week ago. Today I stumbled on a can 



FIFTY-FIFTY 13 



of mahogany furniture stain In the hallway and — ■ 
well, there you are. {Proudly flourishes brush.) 
A mahogany sea! p 

You'll never sell It. {Comes back to table.) 

Henry. 
Sell it? Say, Paul, I paint pictures. I am an 
artist — not a vulgar clerk. {Gazes thoughtfully at 
canvas. ) But one can never tell ! I might here have 
hit upon a new thought in art. Some critic may 
focus his carping eye on this canvas and pronounce 
It the discovery of the period. {Sighs.) But what's 
the use of talking real art to you.^^ 

Paul. 
{Seated again.) 
You wrong me. I fully appreciate art, my boy, 
but not on an empty stomach. {He groans.) 

Henry. 

Forget It. Something's bound to turn up before 

^""S- Paul. 

Assuredly — but it'll be mostly landlady, tailor, 
laundress, et cetera. Now see here, I want to tell you 
something. In the future when you coax a bit of 
bashful currency to snuggle within your hand, don't 
let It turn your head. 

Henry. 

H^y? Paux,. 

Buy something useful. Don't squander your 
money on this kind of junk. {Picks up loaf of 
bread and slams it down again.) 

Henry. 

Junk? That's bread. 



14 FIFTY-FIFTY 



Paul. 
Exactly. Bread ! You go and squander our hard- 
earned coin on a luxury, when we are in dire need of 
the bare necessities of life. This! (Picks up empty 
wine bottle.) Shame — everlasting shame be upon 
thy head, oh Henry Brown! {Slams bottle on table.) 

Henry. 

To hear you talk one would think you were an 

habitual drunkard. -, 

Faul. 

No, son ; I draw the line at milk. But there's 
the point. My bohemian soul is thirsty, not hungry. 
It craves for exuberance, not for mere soggy semi- 
sustenance in the shape of a loaf of bread. When I 
eat, son, I want to sit at a table covered with the 
snowiest of linen ; where the eye is greeted with real 
silver, cut glass and the rarest and thinnest of china 
while the cherry in the cocktail smiles a cheery wel- 
come and the soft light from the shaded candelabra 
sheds its rays upon the engraved menu, while an 
obsequious waiter stands ready with pad and pencil 
poised eager to anticipate my slightest wish. I want 

Henuy. 
{Interrupting savagely.) 
Aw, cut it out ! Y'ou've spoiled my whole day. 

Paul. 

My son^ you may be an artist on canvas, but at 
table, you're a farmhand, incarnate. 

Henry. 
Huh ! I knew how to eat before you were bom. 

Paul. 
Yes, I know, but they're not eating that way any 
more. {Lights pipe,) And I'm telling you some- 



FIFTY-FIFTY 15 



thing more. If ever I get one of my plays produced 
on Broadway, I'll sure learn to call all those fancy 
dishes by their first names. 

Henry. 

{Growlingly.) 

Well, talk won't get you anywhere. Get to work. 

Emulate yours truly. I was up at six o'clock this 

mornine;. ^ 

^ Paul. 

Gee! I often wondered Avhat it looked like at that 

hour in the morning. 

Henry. 

Do you mean to say that you were never up at 

that hour? _, 

Paul. 

Once — just once, and oh, the horrible sights I 

saw ; icemen and people going to work ! Ugh ! 

( Shudder s.^ __ 

^ ^ Henry. 

{After pause.) 

Nearly finished with that yarn.^ 

Paul. 

Uh-huh! Say, son, what goes with blonde hair.^^ 

Henry. 

Rouged lips. p^^^ 

No, no ; I mean color of gown. I say here : "Lady 

Sylvia wore a tight-fitting riding habit that showed 

to advantage every line and curve of her beautiful 

figure." -TT 

° Henry. 

Huh ! I should call that a bad habit. 

Paul. 
Huh! That's the best I could expect from the 
discoverer of a mahogany sea. How're things with 
the fair Sophie.'^ 



16 FIFTY-FIFTY 



Henry. 

Same old story. {Takes photograph from top of 
easel, gazes at it, sighs.) She's strong for me but 
her father says I must have at least a hundred thou- 
sand before I order the orange blossoms. (Places 
photograph on frame.) That means I have a fine 
chance, eh? But how about you.^^ Ever think of the 
marriage thing? _, 

I? Say, son, there are two things I dread — death 
and marriage. I must die, but I need not marry. 
I swear I shall never be taken alive! 
(Knock on door, R. U. E. They start guiltily at the 
sound and gaze anxiously at each other. ) 

Henry. 
( Guardedly. ) 
The landlady ! p 

Or the laundress ! 

Henry. 
Or the tailor! (They rise and look about, seeking 
a hiding place. Knock is again given.) 

(Voice of R. U, E., "MaiV They show relief.) 

Paul. 

Well, why didn't you say so? (Goes to door 

R. U. E., opens it, and a large envelope is handed 

to him. He gazes ruefully at it, comes hack to table 

and tosses letter on it.) 

Henry. 

(Looking at letter,) 

Well? 

Paul. 

Farewell Broadway's bright lights! (Dejectedly 

sinks into chair.) I shall only behold them from 

afar! 



FIFTY-FIFTY 17 



Henry. 
Open said envelope. It may not be true. 

Paul. 
I can read it from here. But to oblige. {Opens 
envelope, extracts letter, reads :) "Dear Sir — Here- 
with is returned your manuscript, 'The Primrose 
Path.' Regret that same is unavailable at present." 

Henry. 
(Cheerfully/.) 
Oh, well, it might have been worse. 

Paul. 
Yes — it might have been one of our many cred- 

'^°'^'- Henry. 

Goodness knows we try hard enough, but nobod} 
seems to be breaking their necks to corner our efforts. 
I know I paint a good picture. 

Paul. 

And I write good stuff. 

(Knock at door, R. U. E. They exchange startled 

glances, ) 

Henry. 

(Guardedly.) 
See who it is. (Rises.) 

Paul. 
(Same tone.) 
See yourself. (Rises.) 

Henry. 

Not me. It isn't the postman this time. And to 
all others we are not at home. 

Knock is repeated. They tiptoe cautiously to screen 
and hide behind it. Knock is again repeated, slight 
pause and then enter, R. U. E., O'Malley and 



18 FIFTY-FIFTY 



Mrs. Olesen. Henry and Patji. have heen peek- 
ing from behind screen hut now withdraw their 
heads. 0'Mai.i.ey. 

(^ After searching glance about.) 
Huh ! Nobody home. 

Mrs. Olesen. 
(Swedish sing song accent.) 
Yass, dere ban nobody no more. 

O'Malley. 
(^Inspecting canvas.) 
And would ye look at that now! What it is I 
dunno. ^j^^ O1.ESEN. 

(Over his shoulder.) 
Ay tank es a picture. 

CMalley. 
Faith and while they're wasting their time on the 
loike of that, I've got two suits of clothes on me hands 
which they can't pay for. 

Mrs. Olesen. 

(Draws a long slip of paper from front of dress and 

lays it on table.) 

Y^ass, hare is de bell, fourteen dallars and fourteen 
cants. If dey pay, dey gat de clothes ; yust so. 

O'Maleey. 
(Takes bill from pocket, places it alongside of hers.) 
Good idea, Mrs. Olesen. I'll be after leavin' a 
gentle reminder meself. Niver a stitch of clothes will 
they git from me until I see the money in me hand. 
Sure, if yer comin' my way, Mrs. Olesen, I'll be 
proud of yer company. (To door, R. U. E.) 



FIFTY-FJITY 19 



Mrs. Olesen. 

{following.) 

Sure you ban conimin' niai wai, Mr. O'Mallej. 

0'Mai.ley. 
{Doffing hat with a grajid flourish and bowing low.) 
After you, Mrs. Olesen. 

(Mrs. Olesen bows in stately fashion, he bows her 
through door and then closes after his own exit. The 
heads of Henry and Paul appear from behind 
screen; after a careful reconnoiter they come down 

^•) Henry. 

(Making sure visitors have really departed.) 
The Irish scoundrel! 

Paul. 
The Svenska lady villain ! She'll keep our linen. 

Henry. 
He's keeping our clothes. Oh, just wait till I lay 
my hands on him! (Paces angrily.) He roasted my 
picture, too. He called it "What it is I dunno." 

Paul. 
Take my advice and don't start anything with the 
name of Patrick O'Malley tied to it. 

Henry. 
There's only one thing that holds me back — 

Paul. 
Yes, I know — Patrick O'Malley. 

Henry. 
(Stops pacing, faces Paul.) 
Well, what's to be done.? We've one fifty-fifty 
suit of clothes between us and you have that on. As 
for linen — 



Paul. 

I have that on also. 



20 FIFTY-FIFTY 



Henry. 

Money? p^^^_ 

No, jou wrong me. I'm not wearing any of that. 

Henry. 

Inventory taken, let's get down to brass tacks. 
Have you an idea? 

Paui.. 

I thought I had, but it came back. (Indicates 
manuscript on table.) Wait ! (Strikes palm of hand 
against forehead, thoughtful pose.) 

Henry. 
Aha, business of thinking! 

Paul. 

(SuddenlT^.) 
I have it. Your aunt just died and left you a 
million dollars. How's that.^^ (Poses.) 

Henry. 

(Stares at him a moment, drops limply into chair.) 
Poor fellow! (Taps forehead.) He'll soon be 
ringing the doorbell of the nearest crazy bazaar. 

Paul. 
(Excitedly.) 
It's a great scheme! I got the idea from a news- 
paper account — almost like this — listen ! Y^our aunt 

has iust died — tx 

^ Henry. 

Hold on. That's the second time she's died. Be- 
sides, I haven't heard from my aunt in years and 
years ; she's very likely dead, long ago. The last I 
heard anything about her, she didn't have a nickel. 

Paul. 
Where was she then.^^ 



FIFTY-FIFTY 21 



Henry. 

London. _, 

Paul. 

Aha, great ! Your aunt who has been living 
abroad for many years, dies suddenly and you — you 
lucky scamp ! have fallen heir to her fortune, some- 
thing over a million dollars. Poor idea, I guess, eh.^ 

Henry. 

(Angrily.) 
I won't have my aunt die, not for two million. 
And you're a cold-hearted wretch ! 

Paul. 
{Coaxingly.) 
Oh, come now, old chap ; listen to reason. 

Henry. 

That doesn't make a noise like reason. Rank 
lunacy, I call it. 

(Seats himself at table, picks up pen, writes rapidly.) 
"Popular Young Artist Falls Heir to a Million." 
Some headline — now for the reading matter. "It is 
announced in art circles that Henry Brow^n, the well 
known marine artist, has inherited a fortune, esti- 
mated at over a million dollars, from his lately de- 
ceased aunt, Suzane Spriggins, of London, Eng- 
land." There ! That's what I call a stroke of positive 
genius. (Rises.) Zip! Up goes the rocket — now 
watch out for the stick. (Puts on coat.) 

Henry. 

(Bewildered.) 
But, confound it — I don't understand. 

Paul. 
Of course you don't. If you did, you wouldn't be 
an artist. All you have to do is to sit tight and 



22 FIFTY-FIFTY 



don't rock the boat. I'm making a dash for the 
newspaper office next door, insert this and be back 
in a jiffy. (Grabs hat, hustles to door R. U. E.y 
waves paper.) Remember, sit tight and don't 
rock the boat. (He exits with a rush and Henry 
drops limply in a chair, staring after him.) 

Henry. 
(Gaspingly.) 
He's — he's plumb gone ! I've had an aunt die and 
she's left me a million dollars! (Suddenly.) Great 
Scott! (Runs to door, R. U. E., jerks it open and 
looks out.) And he has the only suit of clothes 
in the world — and all the visible supply of linen. 
(Yells.) Hey, Paul, have a heart! Bring back our 
clothes! (Closes door, comes back to table, sits on 
edge moodily.) Hum! Nice pickle I'm in. My 
pal's gone crazy — with all our wardrobe. I don't 
mind his losing his mind but I do hate to lose our 
clothes. 

Knock at door R. U. E. Henry slides from table, 
prepares to seek safety in flight. Door opens and 
enter Mrs. Podge. Henry is nervous. 

Mrs. Podge. 
(Stolidly.) 
Don't be startled, Mr. Brown ; it's only me. I just 
met Mr. Green and he told me you were in, and to 
walk right in, so I came in. 

Henry. 

(Aside.) 
You're certainly "in" all right. 

Mrs. Podge. 
I came about the rent. 



FIFTY-FIFTY 23 



Henry. 

(Recovering cheerily.) 
Oh, that's all right, Mrs. Podge — certainly — have 
a seat. {Places chair for her at C.) Charming 
morning, isn't it? And how extremely well you are 
looking, Mrs. Podge. 

Mrs. Podge. 
{Seated stolidly.) 
I came about the rent, Mr. Brown. 

Henry. 

{Gaily.) 
Of course you did — how perfectly lovely of you — • 
saves us the trouble of taking it to you. Let me see. 
How much do we owe you, my dear Mrs. Podge .f^ 

Mrs. Podge. 

{Stiffly.) 

Five weeks at five dollars the week, is twenty-five 

dollars. ^^ 

Henry. 

{Admiringly.) 

So it is, so it is. My, how quick and accurate you 

are at fissures. _, _, 

^ Mrs. Podge. 

Never mind my figures. Where'd your friend go? 

He was in a dreadful hurry. 

Henry. 
Yes — he went crazy. They always go quick when 
they go crazy. ^^^^^ ^^^^^ 

{Startled.) 
Lawzee! {Glances anxiously at door, R. U. E.) 

Henry. 
Yes, Mrs. Podge, I'm afraid it is onl}^ too true. 
Sh ! He's going to kill my aunt. 



24 FIFTY-FIFTY 



Mrs. Podge. 
(Rises in fright.) 
Him crazy — and a murderer ! 

Henry. 
Be calm, my dear Mrs. Podge — be calm! (Forces 
her back into chair.) There's nothing we can do 
now. You are a poor defenseless woman, and I — I 
am a poor defenseless man — without any clothes. 
But, pardon me. Where were we? 

Mrs. Podge. 
(Stolidly.) 
Five weeks at, five dollars the week, twenty-five 

doll^^s- Henry. 

Exactly. You're absolutely right to the penny. 
Now that we have that settled, allow me to thank 
you in behalf of Mr. Green and myself for so kindly 
keeping track of our indebtedness. Also permit me, 
my dear Mrs. Podge. (Raises her gallantly from 
chair and escorts her towards door, R. U. E.) So 
very, very good of you to call — you must surely 
come in again very soon. 

Mrs. Podge. 
(At door almost before she realizes what he is at- 
tempting to do and then she frees herself.) 

No, you don't. I came about the rent, and you 
ain't going to talk me out of it, neither. (Step by 
step she forces him backward to the table.) Just 
because you're a slick talker ain't a-going to make 
me sign your rent receipt. No, siree! Money talks 
today, Mr. Brown, not you. 

Henry. 
But my dear Mrs. Podge — 



FIFTY-FIFTY 25 



Mrs. Podge. 
Five weeks, twenty-five dollars. Settle! 

Henry. 
Now, Mrs. Podge, I'm sorry, but I haven't it to- 
day. Perhaps tomorrow — 

Mrs. Podge. 
No, today. Today or out you go ! {Mournfully.) 
Ah, this all comes of being alone in the world ; 
everybody imposes on me. (Dabs eyes with handker- 
chief.) It's been this way ever since Mr. Podge 
went to sea. Henry. 

Went to see what? 

Mrs. Podge. 
(Seats herself.) 
Mr. Podge was a sailor. He went to sea seven 
years come next Friday and he never came back. 
(Sjiiffs.) He was drownded dead. 

Henry. 
Ah, then perhaps you can help me out. You are 
the wife of the widow, I should say, of a sailor. You 
should be a connoisseur of things marine. Kindly 
look at this picture and tell me what you think of its 
coloring. Mrs. Podge. 

(Surveys picture,) 
Well! What is it.? 

Henry. 
Sunset on the ocean. (Poses proudly.) 

Mrs. Podge. 
Looks more like a sample of furniture varnish. 
But I didn't come here to pass judgment on your 
picture. I came about the rent. (He lifts a hand 
in protest.) If I don't get the rent, I shall expect 
equal value thereof. Mr. Brown, I'm in the market 
for a husband. 



26 FIFTY-FIFTY 



Henry. 

Y'es, I know, but we haven't a husband in stock 
today; just out of 'em. Won't something else just 
as good do as well? 

Mrs. Podge. 
(^Firmly.) 

No, sir. Everybody imposes on a lone woman. 
Ever since Mr. Podge went away, it's been the old, 
old story; the lodgers have taken advantage of me 
and bamboozled me out of my money. Now I'll tell 
you what I'll do. You marry me and I'll receipt 
your bill in full. What say .'^ 

Henry. 

( Gaspingly. ) 
Great Scott, woman ! Why — why, I can't marry 
you. I'm, I'm already married. 

Mrs. Podge. 
{Calmly.) 

Well, that's too bad. {Suddenly.) How about 
your partner, Green .^ He ain't, is he.^ 

Henry. 
{Astounded. Recovers slowly.) 
No, he's not married. Say, you don't care who 
you marry, do you.^ 

Mrs. Podge. 
{Coldly.) 
A husband is a husband. He tends the furnace, 
sweeps the halls and stairs, collects the rents, which 
he turns over to me ; and such-like things. It don't 
make much difference what kind of a man I get, I'll 
make a handy husband out of him — leave that to me ! 
Now about your friend, Green? 



FIFTY-FIFTY 27 



Henry. 

{Idea suddenly appeals to him.) 
Great! He's just the man for you. Why, he was 

only saying a few moments ago that he had fully 

determined to marry; just the moment he found the 

right woman. Besides, marriage runs in his family. 

His grandfather, grandmother, mother and father 

were all married. 

Mrs. Podge. 
I don't think so much of him myself, but I gotta 

have a husband and beggars can't be choosers. 

{Anxiously.) But maybe he ain't coming back no 

"^<^i'^- Henry. 

Ah, he will return, Mrs. Podge. He cannot fail to 
resist the call of Cupid. 

INIrs. Podge. 
, How do I know he'll marry me when he does come 

^^^^•^ Henry. 

Leave that to me. He has never failed to be gov- 
erned entirely by me in his every important step. 

Mrs. Podge. 
Very well. I shall leave it to you. 

Enter Paul, excitedly, R. V. E. 

Paul. 
It's done, old pal. Now we shall reap the harvest 
sown from the seed of a brilliant idea. {Checks speech 
quickly as he discovers Mrs. Podge. She rises and 
stares somewhat anxiously at him. Henry and Mrs. 
Podge exchange glances.) 

Henry. 
{To Mrs. Podge.) 
Be calm, madam — it's all right. {To Paul.) You 



28 FIFTY-FIFTY 



have come at an opportune moment ; Mrs. Podge and 
I were just discussing you. 

Paui.. 
(Bows.) 
Such is fame. They will talk about you. 

Henry. 
(To Paul.) 
Mrs. Podge, you know, is a widow. 

Paui.. 
I could tell that the very first day I saw her. She 
always looks so cheerful. 

Henry. 

She is shy a husband. 

Paul. 

Male or female,^ • 

Mrs. Podge. • 

(Sternly.) 

Mr. Green! __. 

Henry. 

Being shy a husband and feeling keenly in sym- 
pathy with her, I have offered to supply her with 

Paui,. 

Congratulations, old pal. 

Henry. 
Paul, I am not selfish. I have decided that you 
shall become the second Mrs. Podge's husband — I 
mean, Mrs. Podge's second husband. 

Paul. 
What! Quit your joking. 

Henry. 

I'm not joking, Paul. 



FIFTY-FIFTY 29 



Mrs. Podge. 

{Severely.) 

Marriage Is no joke, sir. Now you either marry 

me or out of this house you go ; and when you reach 

the sidewalk, you'll be arrested for defrauding me. 

That's final. 

Paul. 

Marry you? Why, I don't love you. 

Mrs. Podge. 
Bah! Who said anything about love.^ This Is a 
business proposition. The day we are married, your 
back rent Is cancelled. 

Paul. 

{Desperately.) 

Say, what is thls.'^ Why don't you marry her.? 

Henry. 

Y^ou know that Is impossible. I am already mar- 
ried. T^ 

Paul. 

What! {Sinks limply into a chair.) 

Henry. 

{Grinning.) 
I'm just getting even with you. Y''ou killed my 
only aunt. Fifty-fifty jou know. 

Paul. 
{^Angrily to feet.) 
I shall do nothing of the kind. I am more than 
twenty-one, and my own boss. I'll have you to — 

Henry. 

{Drawing him aside.) 
Listen. Promise to marry her — promise anything 
to stall her off for a few days. We'll get out of it 
somehow. It's either that or the park benches, or 
maybe jail, for us. Promise? 



30 FIFTY-FIFTY 



Paul. 
(Protesting.) 
Oh, come, now ; it isn't right. I — 

Henry. 

{•Quichly to Mrs. Podge.) 

Paul has consented, Mrs. Podge. However, he 

considers it rather sudden, and he'd like a few days 

in which to prepare for the happy event. (Paul, is 

dazed.) j^j^g Podge. 

All right. That seems fair enough. Just put that 
down in writing ; writing is more binding. 

Henry. 

Certainly. Writing is no more than right. Here 
we are. (Seats himself, writes rapidly.) "I hereby 
promise to marry Mrs. William Podge — and the Lord 
have mercy on my soul." How's that? 

Mrs. Podge. 
Y^ou might put the date in. He could postpone the 
marriage forever, otherAvise. 

Paul. 
(Endeavoring to overcome his benumbed condition.) 
I — I — have no voice in the matter. 

Henry. 

(Ignoring T AVI., to Mrs. PoroE.) 
Right again, Mrs. Podge. I'll fix that part. 
(JVrites.) Here we are. "I hereby promise to 
marry Mrs. William Podge — and the Lord have 
mercy on my soul 30 days after above date." (To 
Paul, shoving paper towards him.) Here, Paul, sign 
right here. (Paul, still dazed, signs paper. Henry 
extends it to Mrs. Podge.) There you are, Mrs. 
Podge. If he doesn't keep the furnace clean, let me 
know. Bless you, my children, bless you ! 



FIFTY-FIFTY 31 



Mrs. Podge. 
(Takes paper ^ scans it and carefully tucks it in front 

of dress.) 
Thank 3'ou, jNIr. Brown. (Scornful glance at 
Paul.) I ain't getting much in the line of a man, 
but half a loaf is better than none. Paul •winces.) 

Henry. 
(Escorting her to the door,Jl. U. E.) 
Bless you, he's all loaf — that's a little joke. And 
now, I'm so sorry you must leave. I've enjoyed your 
visit so much. (Meaning glance at the dazed Paul.) 
And so has my friend. (Opens door, R. U. E., gal- 
lantly hows her out, turns and faces Paul, grinning 
broadly. Paul glares savagely in return.) 

Paul. 

(Now partly recovered, wrathfully rises.) 
Well, I suppose that is your idea of a joke.^^ 

Henry. 
(Down C.) 
Oh, cheer up. The worst is yet to come. Wait 
until you're married ; you're merely engaged now. 
Besides, I got rid of her, didn't 1? 

Paul. 
Yes, you did. But how the deuce am / going to 

g-et rid of her.^^ ^t 

° Henry. 

Y'^ou should have thought of that before you prom- 
ised to marry her. (Paul glares, speechless with 
rage.) Now Paul, don't be downhearted. I have 
every confidence that things are going to break bet- 
ter for us. p^^j^ 

(Sadly shaking head.) 
And this — after all I've been to you — done for 
vou— vou wish that on to me. 



32 FIFTY-FIFTY 



Henry. 

(Significant glance about room.) 

Yes — after all you've done for me — fairly reveling 

in the lap of luxury. One fifty-fifty suit of clothes, 

a change of linen between us and everything in hock 

except that bunch of pawn tickets. (Indica,te*s tickets 

on table.) ^ 

^ Paul. 

Listen, son. You say things are going to break 
better for us. Well, I'm the chap who's responsible 
if they do. Within an hour -now your name will be 
on everybody's tongue. "Lucky dog." "Million Dol- 
lars !" Then you'll change your doleful tune. 

Henry. 

Will you have the goodness to tell me how we are 
to derive any benefit from that silly idea of yours? 
Who's going to believe that yarn about my Aunt 
Suzane.? p^^^^^ 

{Fiamestly .) 

My dear pal, haven't you lived long enough to 
know that 95 per cent of the human race is actually 
begging to be buncoed.^ Did you ever know a highly 
improbable story that wasn't readily believed.^ Bar- 
num had the right idea : "There's a boob born every 
minute." We contradict the story and they will be- 
lieve it all the more. At an}^ rate, it can't do us any 

harm. ^^ 

Henry. 

No — nothing can make us any worse off. But even 

if they do believe it, what good will that do us.^^ 

Paul. 
(ScornjuUy.) 

Son, your ignorance is pitiful! There's an adage 
that runs like this : "If you've got it, you can get it, 



FIFTY-FIFTY 33 



but if jou haven't got it, then shall it be taken away 
from you, even what you haven't got." Get the 
idea? The minute folks think you've got it, you can 
have anything they've got. But if they think you're 
down and out, let's see you try and get anything. 
Which is exactly our condition this very minute. 
Now see if my dope isn't right. 

Henry. 
(Laughs.) 

Gee, I just happened to think. What do you sup- 
pose Mrs. Podge will say when she hears I've been left 
a million.^ (Laughs.) 

Paul. 

Well.? What's the joke? 

Henry. 

(Laughing uproariously/ and almost choking as he 
delivers the speech.) 

Why — ^she — wanted to — marry me — first, but I — 
I wished her on to you. (Pokes a finger in Paul's 
ribs.) Isn't that immense? 

Paul. 
(Drily.) 

Yes — great! But perhaps it won't be long before 
I shall be able to demonstrate to you my idea of a 
joke. In the meantime — 

(Knock on door, R. U. E. They exchange 
startled glances and knock is repeated. They tiptoe 
to screen^ comedy manner, and hide behind it.) 

Sophie. 
(Outside R. U. E. raps smartly on door and calls.) 
Henry, are you home? (Pause.) I'm coming in. 



34 FIFTY-FIFTY 



Enter Sophie, May and Mrs. Plunk. All express 

surprise at finding the apartment apparently 

unoccupied. May curiously inspects things. 

Mrs. Plunk. 
You see, mj dear, he's not in. (Seats herself 
heavily at table, breathing in stentorian manner. 
Henry and Paul show heads above screen, interested 
spectators.) Sophie. 

( Disappointedly. ) 
Oh, dear ! I wonder where he is .? 

Mrs. Plunk. 

(Breathing heavily.) 

I'm completely out of breath. My, what a dreadful 

climb ! T. , 

May. 

And this — this is an artist's studio ! Isn't it won- 
derful! _ 

. bOPHIE. 

(Proudly.) 
You should see Henry. (Henry grins and Paul 
grimaces.) Mks. Pi,unk. 

Yes we should, but we don't. 

May. 

This is my very first visit to an artist's studio. 
I had no idea they were like this. 

Mrs. Plunk. 
They're not, my dear. 

May. 

And is this where they paint those wonderful pic- 
tures.? (At easel.) 

Mrs. Plunk. 

No, dear — you're in the wrong studio. (The men^s 
heads slowly sink from view.) 



FIFTY-FIFTY 35 



Sophie. 
{Spiritedly.) 
I'm sure that Henry will eventually arrive ; but he's 
been rather unfortunate lately. (^SigJis.) 

May. 
{Who has been surveying picture from every angle.) 
This is simply exquisite. The coloring shows great 
technic and the tone is so original. {The men peer 
over screen.) ^^^ p^^^^^ 

{With gesture toward sideboard.) 
It looks as though the "coloring" might have been 
originally contained in these bottles. 

IMay. 
I do think Cubist themes are the sweetest things! 
(Henry grimaces. Paul grins.) 

Sophie. 
Oh, my dear, that isn't a Cubist theme. {Knoiv- 
ingly.) That's a bit of wild animal life — "Call of 
the Wild," I believe. Very appropriate title, too. 

(Henry again grimaces and Paul grins maliciously.) 

Mrs, Plunk. 
{Picking up tailor and laundry bills from table.) 
My dear, you are quite right. Judging from these, 
I should say "The Call of the Wild" has lately paid 
a visit here. {The men quickly lower their heads.) 
A bill from a tailor and another from a laundress. 
Also a bunch of pawn tickets. Scandalous ! 

Sophie. 
{Scathingly.) 
I don't consider it quite the proper thing to exam- 
ine private papers belonging to another. 



36 FIFTY-FIFTY 



Mrs. Plunk. 
( Yawning and settling hack in chair up R. ) 
I couldn't help seeing them. 

Sophie. 
Well, I'm sure the bills will be paid just as soon 
as Henry and Mr. Green see them. (Mrs. Plunk 
shrugs.) jYj^Y. 

(^Eagerly.) 
Oh, jou started to tell me about Mr. Green. 

Sophie. 
He's the dearest fellow in the world! {The heads 
of the listeners pop over screen and Paul, grins 
at the compliment.) He's a writer — plays — ^books — • 
wonderful things! . (Paul's face takes on a proud 
look and Henry grimaces.) 

May. 
Oh, how I should like to meet him. 
(Mrs. Plunk has meanwhile fallen into a heavy doze. 
The two girls engage in pantomimic conversation 
and Paul cautiously steps from behind screen^ with 
the intention of making door, R. U. -E., unob- 
served.) Henry. 

(Grabs Paul, fiercely aside.) 
Hold on. Where're you going .^^ 

Paul. 
(Guardedly aside.) 
She's dying to meet me. I'll sneak out the door 
and then dash in. What? 

Henry. 

(Angrily aside.) 
No, you won't. You take off those clothes, I'll 
put them on and do all the dashing necessary. See? 



FIFTY-FIFTY 37 



Paul. 

(Breaking Henry's hold.) 

Think you will? Watch me! {Grins.) You will 

make me marry a designing landlady, will you? 

{Cautiously crosses to R. U. E. and hastily exits, 

leaving Henry a picture of comedy consternation.) 

Sophie. 
{To May.) 

And I'm positive you'll admire Mr. Green, almost 

quite as much as you will Henry — Mr. Brown, I 

mean. ^ ^ 

May. 

From what you have told me, he must be charming. 
Heavy footsteps off R. U. E., then Paul bursts into 
the room, recoiling in apparent astonishment as he 
beholds the women. Quickly recovers and advances 
to meet them. Henry views proceedings over top 
of screen, with varied emotions. 

Paul. 
Why, of all the delightful surprises— Miss Bland, 
by Jove ! ( Extends hand. ) 

Sophie. 
{Places hand in his.) 
You don't mind our intruding, do you? But 
{anxiously) where is Henry? 

Paul. 
{Glances about in apparent astonishment.) 
Isn't he here? Why, I left him here just a few 
moments ago. {He grins at Henry, who shakes a 
fist in return.) ^ 

•' ^ bOPHIE. 

Then he's probably stepped out. I — oh, I beg 
your pardon, I want you to meet Miss Blossom. 



38 FIFTY-FIFTY 



She's been abroad for a long time and only returned 
yesterday. 

(^Introduction follows. Paul, is highly elated, while 
Henry is furiously angry.) 

Paul. 
{To Sophie.) 
You don't need to apologize for your so-called 
intrusion, but I must apologize for the condition of 
our studio this morning. ( To May. ) You see, unless 
one is accustomed to visiting a studio frequently, 
they have a wrong impression of just what one is 
like. Genius, my dear Miss Blossom, is a most pe- 
culiar institution. It must have a certain atmos- 
phere in which to thrive. At least, so Henry and 
I find it. We strive more for rude comforts and 
true bohemianism than for the enervating effects so 
often produced by surroundings of luxury. {Swells 
proudly.) ^^^ 

I understand. Oh, I think this is the most charm- 
ing place! (Sophie nods approval and Henry 
grimaces.) p^^^ 

For instance (points at picture), there's Henry's 
latest creation — "A Morning in the Country." Why, 
atmosphere is fairly oozing from it. 

Sophie. 
(Surveying subject.) 
Hum! May thought she recognized in it one sub- 
ject, I thought of another, and now you pronounce 

it something; else. .^ 

^ Paul. 

( Confidentially. ) 
Sh! That's the wonderful part of Henry's cre- 
ations. Nobody can correctly catalogue them — not 



FIFTY-FIFTY 39 



even Henry himself. (Grins at Henry, who shakes 

^" fi'*-) Sophie. 

Poor Henry ! I'm afraid he's working too hard. 
(Sighs.) I haven't seen very much of him of late. 

Paul. 

(MeaninglT^.) 
You haven't looked in the right place. (Quickly.) 
I mean to say he doesn't go out much lately. 

Sophie. 
(Poutingly.) 
Well, he's out now. (Henry scowls at Paul,.) 

May. 

(Innocently.) 
Tell me, Mr. Green, is Mr. Brown a union painter? 
(Henry almost collapses with comedy consternation. 
Paul grins.) Sophie. 

I'm sure I don't know, dear. But he must be. 
We hear so much about the union painters. (Paul 
seizes loaf of bread and hurls it at Henry's head.) 

May. 
Of course. p^^^^ 

Oh, he belongs to the union all right. But I must 
really apologize for not being in a position to offer 
you a cup of chocolate and a biscuit. Our valet's 
day off, you know. He's locked his pantry and 
taken the key with him. 

Henry. 
(Waves bread.) (Aside.) 

Here; have some of this. (Threatens to hurl it at 
P^UL.) Sophie. 

Oh, it doesn't matter in the least. We really must 
be going. Some other time, when Henry is here, 



40 FIFTY-FIFTY 



we'll have luncheon with you. Come, May. {To 
Mrs. Plunk, who is peacefully asleep.) Come, Mrs. 
Plunk. {Shakes her.) Gracious, she's fast asleep. 

Paui.. 
Say, it's a shame to wake her. She's the greatest 
chaperone ever and a great little sleeper. 

Mrs. Plunk. 
{Straightens up, rubs a hand across eyes.) 
Bless my soul! Have I been dozing.? {Rises.) 

Sophie. 
Yes, dear, we are leaving now. 

Paul. 
Good morning, Mrs. Plunk. 

Mrs. Plunk. 
Oh, good morning, Mr. Green. 

Sophie. 
{To Paul.) 
You'll tell Henry we called, won't you, and how 
much we missed him? 

Paul. 
{Grins.) 
Yes — he'll be so sorry. {Aside.) He is now. 

May. 
{To Paul, sweetly.) 
Good-bye, Mr. Green. {Bartends hand.) 

Paul. 

{Takes her hand in both of his.) 

Good-bye. I trust I may see you soon again. 

{Aside.) Make it the day I'm to wear our suit again. 

(Mrs. Plunk and Sophie at door R. U. E.) 

May. 
{Graciously.) 
Yes, I hope so. {Joins the other women.) 



FIFTY-FIFTY 41 



Paul. 

(Following them to door, smilingly bowing them 

out.) 
Look out for the third step, ladies. Good-bye. So 

glad you called. Henr^^ will be so sorry he was out. 

(The women exeunt. Paul stands bowing at door, 
Henry hurls bread at him, then follows up attack 
by making a rush at Paul. Paul eludes him by 
dashing and ducking under Henry's arm, runs to 
table and shields himself behind it.) 

Henry. 

(Furiously, trying to reach Paul across table.) 

You coward ! Come around here where I can get a 

chance to knock that wooden block of yours into the 

middle of next week. 

Paul. 

(Grins.) 

Oh, I say, don't be angry. (Innocently.) What 

could I do.^ TTT 

Henry. 

Do? (Groans.) Good Lord, you've done it! You 

certainly gave me the razzle-dazzle all right. Why 

couldn't you have given me the clothes .^^ 

Paul. 

Because it's my day to wear 'em. (Smiles.) But 
say, isn't she a peach .'^ 

Henry. 
She is all of that. 

Paul. 
Oh, I mean Miss Blossom. 

Henry. 
You perfidious wretch! How dare you aspire to 
her when you are sworn to wed another.'^ 



42 FIFTY-FIFTY 



Paul. 
( Glumly. ) 
By golly, I never thought of that. But I'll be 
rid of her if I have to commit breach of promise. 
The whole thing is a joke anyway. 

Henry. 

Sure, breach of promise is a joke. They give you 

six months in jail and nothing to do but laugh 

about it. -r, 

Paul. 

Oh, shucks! {Brightly.) But did you hear the 

art critics rave about your latest effort? {Laughs.) 

That's some complex affair. Nobody knows what it's 

all about. ^^ 

Henry. 

Yes, just like one of your plays. 

{Heavy footsteps off R. U. E. They exchange 

startled glances.) 

% Bland. 

{Off R. U. E., loud menacing voice.) 
I'll find him — don't worry. {Raps smartly on door 
and clears throat for vocal action.) 

Henry. 
Good Lord! Her father! {Rushes to bed and 
scrambles under sheets.) Tell him I've a fine case of 
whooping cough or something. 

Paul. 
{Looks wildly about.) 
Suffering tomato cans ! 

Bland. 
{Raps smartly again.) 
There's no use pretendin' you're not at home. I 
know you are. Open up ! (Henry mofiows /or Paul 
to open door, then pulls clothes over his head.) 



FIFTY-FIFTY ' 43 



See here, Brown- 



Paul. 
( With despairing gesture, goes to door, opens it. 

Cordially.) 
Why, Mr. Bland— 

Bland enters R. U. E. He shoves Paul forcibly to 
one side, glares angrily about the room, with walk- 
ing stick grasped threateningly in one hand. His 
hat is planted on back of head and he chews vic- 
iously on unlighted cigar. 

Bland. 
{Ferociously.) 

Paul. 
Excuse me, my name is Green. 

Bland. 
Excuse me, I'm color blind. Never could tell one 
color from another. I'm looking for Brown. {Glares 
searchingly about.) p 

Certainly. You have a perfect right to look. 
Have a seat, sir. {Places chair.) 

Bland. 
{Kicks chair away.) 
I don't want a seat. I want Brown. 

Paul. 
Hush! {Finger on lips.) Please be quiet. He's 
very, very sick. {Points at bed.) 

Bland. 
{Quick glance at bed.) 

Hey? Paul. 

{Guardedly.) 

Sh ! Smallpox ! ^^ 

^ Bland. 

No.? 



44 FIFTY-FIFTY 



Paul. 
Yes. He's subject to attacks of smallpox; has 
them every little while. 

Bland. 
I don't care what he's got. He'll have more be- 
fore I'm through with him. (^Choking angrily.) 
Trot him out! Henry. 

(Sticking head out from under the clothes. 
Weakly. ) 
Paul, is that the doctor .^^ 

Paul. 
No, old pal, but he's going to give jou something. 

Henry. 
Oh, dear ! Who is it ? 

Bland. 

(Stamps angrily to bed, shakes stick.) 

It's me, confound you ! And it's a mighty good 

thing for you, young man, that you're flat on your 

back — that saves me the trouble of putting you 

there. (Chokes and sputters in his rage.) 

Paul. 
My, isn't he the rude person .^^ 

Henry. 

Did you wish to see me regarding anything in 
particular, sir ? If not, please leave me to my whoop- 
ing-cough. (Coughs.) 

Bland. 
( Thunderingly . ) 
Whooping-cough.^ He said smallpox. 

Henry. 
Y^es, I know. He's a writer. He doesn't care 
what he says. 



FIFTY-FIFTY 45 



Bland. 
That will do you. I came here to tell you just one 
thing. You're not to see my daughter any more. 
Understand? The only way you can ever get to see 
her is when you show me you have money — a hun- 
dred thousand dollars. Get that.^ 

Henry. 
Y^es, sir. I understood I wasn't to see her a few 
moments ago. (Paul, chokes.) 

Bland. 
Now this is absolutely final. Consider this as your 
final warning. If I catch you even looking at her, 
I'll put you in the hospital. Is that clear .? Now 
remember. (Strides angrily to door R. U. E., turns.) 
Y^ou poor moth-eaten specimen of near humanity ! 
I only give one warning. Good-day ! 

(Bland throws a last baneful glance and is about 
to exit, when — ) 

Enter Mrs. Podge, R. U. E., letter in hand. Bland 
glares angrily at her and stamps angrily off. She 
stares after, him, then comes to C, holding up 

Mrs. Podge. 
Letter for Mr. Brown. Who's the angry person? 

Henry. 
(Springs from bed.) 
The letter, please. 

Paul. 
(To Mrs. Podge.) 
Thank you; that's all. 

Mrs. Podge. 
I ain't taking no order from you. (Hands letter 
to Henry; glares at Paul; he grimaces.) 



46 FIFTY-FIFTY 



Henry. 

{Tears open letter, reads first line.) 
Great Scott! (Gasps and almost faints, recovers, 
draws Paul aside and thrusts letter in his hand.) 
Read it! p^^^^ 

(Aside to Henry, reads.) 
"My dear Nephew: No doubt you will be sur- 
prised to receive a letter from me, but I have kept 
track of you all these years. Am now leaving Lon- 
don for my native land and if you are the man I 
think you are, I shall not need to worry about the 
few remaining years I have to live. Until we meet 
I am your affectionate aunt, Suzane Spriggins." 
Great Scott! I thought I killed her! 
(Paul whirls, faintingly. Henry catches him in his 
arms. Mrs. Podge, amazed, stares at them.) 

Curtain. 



FIFTY- FIFTY 



The Second Act. 

Scene : Late the following morning. Same as 
Act I, except with a few slight changes : The bed 
and screen have been removed and the bed is now 
in room L. 2 E. The door is opened, showing 
lower part of bed through openiiig. The bottles 
on dresser now hold flozcers of different kinds and 
a few better pieces of furniture have been substi- 
tuted for the most dilapidated ones. Two books 
on table. 

At rise, Henry and Paul are discovered lying on 
bed asleep and their feet and lower part of limbs can 
be seen by audience. Immediately after rise they 
snore loudly two or three times. 

Enter Mrs. Podge, R. U. E. Heavy footsteps back 
of her, off R. U. E. 

Mrs. Podge. 
(Calls off R. U. E.) 
Come right along up, Mr. O'Malley. {Loud snore 
off L. 2 E. She starts, then crosses on tiptoes, closes 
door and comes to C.) Gracious, the poor gen- 
tlemen are completely non-compus-mentus from the 
death of Mr. Brown's aunt. 

Enter O'Malley, R. U. E. He is puffing loudly and 
carries two men's suit^ boxes. Comes to table and 
deposits his burden on it. 

O'Malley. 
Whew! {Mops forehead with handkerchief.) 
Paith, 'tis a load for a auto truck. {Looks about.) 
But where are the fine young gentlemen.? 

47 



48 FIFTY-FIFTY 



Mrs. Podge. 
Sh! {Indicates L. 2 E. door.) In there fast 
asleep. What with the grief and excitement of it 
all, it's not to be wondered at. But what you got 
in them bundles, Mr. O'Malley.? 

O'Malley. 
Sure, it's some new clothes for the young gentle- 
men, I've got. , -^ 

^ Mrs. Podge. 

Well, now, isn't that fine ! 

0'Mat.i.ey. 

And thin I thought as how they's be wanting to 

order some more and it's mesilf that's come to take 

the order. ,, ,^ 

Mrs. Podge. 

(Taps newspapers on table with a finger.) 

Did you hear the news ? 

0'Mai.i.ey. 
Sure, did you think I'd be after luggin' them 
clothes up three flights of stairs if I hadn't? Faith, 
"something over a million" is not to be sneezed at 
these hard times, ma'am. (Pauses; confidentially.) 
Whisper ! How much is "something over a million" ? 

Mrs. Podge. 
Bless me, how should I know? Twenty-eight dol- 
lars is the most I ever had ,at one time in all my life 
and that gave me a headache. But aren't you going 
to wait for your money? 

O'Malley. 
(At door, faces her.) 

Sure, and I'd be the last man in the world to worry 
them about money matters in the sad hour of their 



FIFTY-FIFTY 49 



affliction. Besides, a million dollars is a million 

dollars. ^. ^ 

Mrs. Fodge. 

You have a kind heart, Mr. O'Malley. (Pick's up 

boxes from table.) Just like Mr. Podge. (Goes to 

door L. 2 E.) Mr. Podge was surely a kind-hearted 

man. (Deposits boxes inside, closes door and comes 

^^ ^'^ 0'Mai.i.ey. 

(Significantly.) 

He was the same. He went away from you and 
never came back. No man could do more. 

Mrs. Podge. 
That's true. The gentlemen will have a pleasant 
surprise when they wake up and find all them clothes. 

O'Malley. 
(Surveying room.) 

'Tis fixed up ye are since I was here yesterday 
morning, ma'am. Ye have new furniture, flowers, 
and where did all the flowers come from, Mrs. Podge? 

Mrs. Podge. 
They were sent by loving friends to express sym- 
pathy for Mr. Brown's great loss. 

O'Malley. 
His gain, ye mean. Faith, have the fine gentle- 
men taken another room.'^ 

Mrs. Podge. 

Yes. They now occupy a whole suite. Money has 

no limitations. /^,T%r 

O Malley. 

(Coming down a couple of steps.) 

Whisper! How long do they figure it'll be before 

the money comes .^^ 



50 FIFTY-FIFTY 



Mrs. Podge. 
Any moment now, Mr. O'Malley. You know they 
can cable it over, but I suppose it'll come by boat — 
one of them large ones. 

O'Malley. 
Sure, 'twould have to be a large one to carry all 
that money. Well, good luck to ye. Give my re- 
gards to the fine ^^oung gentlemen. Oh, I just hap- 
pened to think. Me brother is an undertaker. Do 
ye mind speaking a word or two fer him to the fine 
young gentlemen? He might as well bury her as 
any other man. He's been an undertaker many the 
year now and never a coDiplaint from a single cus- 
tomer. Good-day, Mrs. Podge. See ye later. And 
don't forget to mention my brother. {At door R. 

TJ W ^ 

'' Mrs. Podge. 

I wouldn't mind doing that for you, Mr. O'Malley, 

but I don't believe they'll bring the poor soul all the 

way from London to bury her here. 

O'Malley. 

{Thoughtfully.) 
Faith, yer right. Besides, 'tis a dangerous trip 
these days. Ye never could tell what might happen 
to her. Did Mr. Brown seem cut up much when he 
heard of his aunt's death .'^ 

Mrs. Podge. 
Dreadful ! Mr. Green fainted when he read her 

letter. ^^^^ 

O'Malley. 

{Puzzled.) 

And why should he faint? Sure, she was nothing 

to him. 



FIFTY-FIFTY 51 



Mrs. Podge. 
(^Helplessly.) 
I don't know, I'm sure. 

O'Malley. 
\q say they got a letter from her? B'gorry, she 
couldn't write she was dead, could she.? 

Mrs. Podge. 
{Bewildered.) 
Say, your getting me all fussed up with your 
questions. I only know what I know. 

O'M ALLEY. 

True fer ye, ma'am. I'll be after bidding ye good- 
day again. {Turns to exit, when — ) 

{Footsteps are heard off R. U. E. O'Malley stands 
expectantly to one side.) 

Enter Mrs. Olesen. She carries a large clothes 
basket filled with linen. Nods smilingly to O'Mal- 
ley and Mrs. Podge, and laboriously sets basket 
on floor at C., panting heavily. 

Mrs. Olesen. 
Dere should ban elevator hare. {To O'Malley.) 
Gut afternoon, Mr. O'Malley. 

O'Malley. 

{Gallantly.) 
The same to ye, Mrs. Olesen. And what have ye 
there .f^ {Indicates basket.) 

Mrs. Olesen. 
{Glances about.) 
Iss nobody home again .^^ 



52 FIFTY-FIFTY 



Mrs. Podge. 
Sli! They're sound asleep in their bed chamber 
apartment room. Is that the gentlemen's linen? 

Mrs. Olesen. 

(Nods.) 

Yass. 

O'Malley. 

(Aside.) 

Sure, she must have read the paper, too. 

Mrs. Podge. 

(To Mrs. Olesen.) 

They mustn't be disturbed. You can leave the 

things and I'll be responsible for your money. (Picks 

up basket.) 

Mrs. Olesen. 

Yust a menet now. Who asked it you shall be 
responsible? Ay know mai customers. Dey is re- 
sponsible enough. (Glances cautiously/ about, low- 
ers voice.) Do you know if dey get the money soon? 
(O'Malley chuckles.) 

Mrs. Podge. 
(Crosses to door L. % E. with basket, turns, faces 
Mrs. Olesen.) 
Assuredly. Any hour now. (Places basket in- 
side door, carefully closes it, comes to C.) You're 
not anxious about your money, are you? 

Mrs. Oeesen. 

Naw! It's so gut as gold. Ay vass tallen Mr. 
O'Malley yust das morning how responsible dam 
fallas ess. 

O'Mallet. 

Sure ye did that same, Mrs. Olesen. (Winks.) 



FIFTY-FIFTY 53 



Mrs. Olesen. 

{Turns toward door R. U. E.) 

Gut-day, Mrs. Podge, an' please don't vorry de 

yantlemans yet on account dey should harry ap de 

money. (To O'Malley.) Vill you have de pleasure 

it shall give me to valk by my house? 

0'Mai.i.ey. 

(Gallantly.) 
Sure, Mrs. Olesen, I shall be only too much de- 
lighted. (Bores to Mrs. Podge, then to Mrs. 
Olesen and they exeunt in comedy grandeur.) 

Mrs. Podge. 
(Solus.) 
Ain't them the kind-hearted folks, though? (She 
turns toward R. U. E. with intention of leavings 
hut stops as Henry and Paul begin speaking.) 

Henry. 
(Off L. 2 E.) 

Say, Paul, that's my coat. 

Paul. 
(Off L. 2 E.) 
Go way, son; how many coats do you want to 
wear at one time? 

Henry. 

All right, go ahead. It doesn't fit you anyhow and 
I hope the trousers choke you. 

Mrs. Podge. 
( Calling. ) 
Is everything all right, Mr. Brown? 



54 FIFTY-FIFTY 



Henry. 
{Sticks head out of door.) 
Oh, hello ! Merry Christmas ! 

Mrs. Podge. 
(Stupidly.) 
This ain't Christmas. 

Henry. 

No.? Well, by golly, Santa Claus has been here. 
(Paul laughs hear till/.) 

Mrs. Podge. 
'Twas only Mr. O'Malley and Mrs. Olesen. How- 
do you feel now after your terrible shock.? 

Henry. 
(Withdrawing head.) 
Fine as silk, Mrs. Podge. 

Paui.. 

(^Inside room.) 
But there's an awful edge on our appetites. Gee, 
but this fresh linen is a treat. If any more junk 
comes, flip it in, won't you, dearie.? 

Mrs. Podge. 
(Horrified.) 
I'm taking no orders from you. And don't you 
call me dearie, either. (Crosses to R. U. E.) 

Paul. 

(Laughs.) 
Why, aren't you my fiancee.? Why be so fussy if I 
grow affectionate.? 

Mrs. Podge. 
(At door R. U. E.) 
Y^ou think because Mr. Brown's got a million dol- 



FIFTY-FIFTY 55 



lars, you can act up — but you can't, not with me. 

(Exits R. U. E,) 

Paul. 

(Bounces from room. He is attired in neat gray 

business suit, with wide, black mourning 

ribbon about left coatsleeve.) 

Oh, is that so? {Discovers she's gone.) Huh! 

She's gone. 

Enter Henry from L. 2 E. He is dressed in natty 
suit, etc., but his feet are still encased in the same 
old dilapidated slippers. 

Henry. 
Y^our fiancee gone? {Gives a final tug at tie.) 

Favl. 

Yes, she fired a verbal centimeter and retreated. 

(Looks critically at Henry.) Say, you'll do. 

(Turns about for Henry's inspection.) How's me? 

(Sits at table.) _.^ 

Henry. 

Very much to the mustard, if you ask. (Sits op- 
posite.) _. 

Paul. 

Well, we've started the ball rolling — and you see 
the results. (Waves a hand.) Flowers, new fur- 
nishings, large and airy sleeping apartment, new 
clothes, fresh linen and — 

Henry. 

(Glumly.) 

And not a bite to eat and no money to buy it with. 
Besides (puts feet on table), take a look. How can 
I go on the street in these? (Conspicuously dis- 
plays slippers.) p^^^^ 

Humph! I hadn't thought as far as slippers yet. 



56 FIFTY-FIFTY 



But we'll manage somehow. {Brightly.) We can 
go fifty-fifty on our one pair of shoes the same as we 
did when we had but one suit of clothes. One of us 
go out at a time, eh.^ 

Henry. 
I refuse — positively refuse ! My experience with 
one suit of clothes for two is sufficient. 

Paul. 
{Rises.) 
Oh, you pessimist ! Remember the million dollars 
and keep it holy. 

Henry. 
{Excitedly to feet.) 

Great Scott ! You had me believing that bunk was 
true. But it isn't. And she's not even dead. And 
she's on her way here. And what'll we do with her 
when she gets here.^^ {Drops limply into chair.) 
And now we're worse off than ever. 

Paul. 

{Staggered, recovers.) 

Oh, come now. I consider we've made a splendid 
beginning. It's working out just as I planned and 
predicted. {Pause.) But I must acknowledge that 
I never figured the aunt popping up. However, it's 
too late to retreat. We've burned our bridges be- 
hind us. T--, 

Henry. 

But Aunt Suzane, man.^^ 

Paul. 
Confound it, don't cross the bridge till we come 
to it! 



FIFTY-FIFTY 57 



Henry. 

{Glumly.) 
We haven't any bridge to cross — we've burned 
em all. 



(Smart rap on door R. U. E. They exchange 
startled glances.) 

Paul. 

(Guardedly.) 

Now who.? Tx 

Henry. 

(Terrified.) 

Aunt Suzane! „ 

Paul. 

(Loud whisper,) 
Walt ! Be brave. Ask her in. 

Henry. 

(Comedy agitation.) 
Use your voice. I can't find mine. 

Paul. 
I will! (Rap sounds again.) I shall show you 
that I am a brave man. (Knees knock together. 
Calls in very weak voice.) C — come In. (Rap again. 
He repeats in somewhat louder tone.) Come in. 

Enter Iona R. U. E. She enters in very confident, 
businesslike manner; a beautiful dashing type of 
a modish bachelor maid. She comes to C. and 
takes card from upper pocket of coat. The men, 
L.y stare at her in dumbfounded amazement. 

Iona. 
(Card in hand.) 
Mr. Brown — Mr. Henry Brown? (Glances inquir- 
ingly from Henry to Paul.) 



58 FIFTY-FIFTY 



Henry. 

(Uneasilz/.) 
I_I_am he. j^^^ 

(Extends card.) 
My card. (Henry accepts card. She compla- 
cently seats herself at R. Henry scans card, Paul 
doing same over Henry's shoulder.) 

Henry. 

{Reads name aloud.) 
lona Lotts. PAUii 

(To Henry, aside.) 
Introduce me — she's a pippin! 

Henry. 

{To lONA.) 

You wished to — to see me? (Paul pohes a finger 
in his ribs.) Oh, pardon me. This is my friend, 
Mr. Green. (Paul is about to become effusive in 
his greeting, but his ardor is cooled by h^r formal 

{To loNA.) 
Did you — are you alone.? 

lONA. 

Surely. I always make business calls — alone. {To 
Henry.) As you may deduce from my card, Mr. 
Brown, I am a broker. 

Henry. 

So are we — dead broke. 

loNA. 

Eh? p^^i.. 

{Quickly.) 
I apologize for him, Miss Lotts. Pie thought you 



FIFTY-FIFTY 59 



said something else. {Taps forehead significantly.) 
Sad affliction, you know. 

loNA. 

(Smiles.) 
Of course. Perhaps I should offer an apology 
for intruding at such a time on a pure business mat- 
ter. But I felt that what I had to offer could not 
be deferred — that is, to any profitable advantage 
to either party in the transaction. (She checks 
speech rather abruptly as her eyes fall on Henry's 
slippers. She stares ciiriously at them. Henry 
notes the direction of her gaze, hastily attempts to 
render them less conspicuous by slipping behind 
Paul. All through scene with Iona he makes com- 
edy, forgetting about the uncouth slippers, then 
remembering them and attempting in various ways 
to conceal them from her view.) 

Paul. 
(To Iona). 

You were saying — 

Iona. 
(Quickly.) 
Where was I? Your pardon, Mr. Green, but I 
really thought when I first came in that you were 
Mr. Brown. The mourning band on your sleeve, 
you know. (The men look at it and exchange ner- 
vous siances.) tt 

° ^ Henry. 

(First to recover.) 

Yes, of course. You see. Miss Lotts — you see, 

when the news first reached us of my — my poor 

aunt's death — ^i 

Paul. 

(Attempting to help him out.) 

We — we knew then that she was dead. 



60 FIFTY-FIFTY 



Henry. 
Of course. Then what was more natural that my 
old pal should display some token of his terrible 
grief? We always go fifty-fifty. 

loNA. 
(Puzzled.) 
Yes, Mr. Brown, but she was your aunt. 

Patji.. 
{Quickly.) 
Oh, I can explain that. You see Henry cries very 
easily. He displayed his grief by shedding tears. 
While I — I do not find it so easy to express my emo- 
tion in that particular way. So I wear this. (Taps 
ribbon.) Would you like to have Henry cry for 
you ? Nothing would give him more pleasure, I assure 
you. Henry, cry for the lady. (Henry staggers 
and drops limply into chair, comedy picture.) 

loNA. 
Oh, not for the world, Mr. Green. (Rises, comes 
to table, draws a photograph and sheet of paper 
from inside pocket, lays them on table, then seats 
herself.) Now, to explain the purpose of my call. 
Would you mind looking at this? (Taps photograph 
with finger.) I can more easily get to the point if 
you will. (They take chairs on either side of her, 
eyeing photograph curiously.) Mr. Brown, as I 
said before, I am a broker. I deal in any article of 
merchandise which offers a reasonable margin of 
profit to me. Now I am informed that you are 
deeply interested in things nautical; yachts, for in- 
stance. ^_ 

Henry. 

Yes, oh, yes — I paint them. 



FIFTY-FIFTY 61 



Paul. 
Likewise mahogaily oceans. 

loNA. 
Very good. Now I have here (picks up photo- 
graph) a photograph of a steam yacht. Extremely 
modern — luxuriously appointed — superb deep-sea 
going qualities — speed, 20 knots — all that sort of 
thing — wonderful bargain. Isn't she a beauty? 
(She holds photograph before their eyes and they 
stare at it stupidly.) Now what would you say, Mr. 
Brown, if I told you that you could buy her wonder- 
fully cheap — greatest bargain I ever had to offer 
in all my business career. (Rises, taps photograph 
impressively.) $50,000 cash! Think of it! $50,000! 
Why, gentlemen, it's like giving it away. (They 
stare at photograph, then at her, then at each other; 
pause.) I see it is hard for you to realize that the 
absurd amount I have named can be the correct price, 
but it is. I repeat : $50,000 cash buys that mag- 
nificent floating palace ! 

ITexry. 
(Comedy gaze.) 
Yes, ma'am. (Paul, Icaris zceakly back in his chair 
and fans his face with photograph.) 

IonA. 

That absurd price had the same effect on me. I 
couldn't believe my ears. 

Paul. 
Oh, I can believe my ears all right, all right. 

Henry. 

(Confusedly.) 
Really, I — I hadn't thought of buying a yacht 
today, you know. Besides I — I don't believe I have 



62 FIFTY-FIFTY 



quite that amount of money In my pocket at this — 
then I — I couldn't — wouldn't know how to crank 
her up. T 

^ lONA. 

It's not expected that you would know how to sail 
her, Mr. Brown. There's a captain and crew of 
twenty waiting orders now. As for the money — 

Paul. 
{^Interrupting, now himself again.) 
Just a word, Miss Lotts. (Rises.) Henry has 
often expressed the desire to own a yacht of this 
kind. But you understand it is only — only after 
today's tidings that he realizes that his dream of 
possessing such an expensive toy may come true. 
( To Henky, impressively. ) Henry, buy that yacht ! 

Henry. 
(Astounded.) 
What! $50,000.? 

lONA. 

A mere bagatelle ! _, 

^ Paul. 

Pooh! (Snaps fingers.) You spend that much 

on wine and supper and think nothing of it. Pooh! 

lONA. 

Yes, sir. And you'll go a long ways before you 
can ever duplicate a magnificent yacht like that at 
such a ridiculous price. 

Henry. 

(Bewildered.) 
I — I — (Glances helplessly at Paul.) 

Paul. 

(To loNA.) 
Miss Lotts, I see we shall have to close this deal. 
Henry is in no condition to transact business today. 



FIFTY-FIFTY 63 



Now, you understand, if he were to pay $50,000 right 
now it would leave him very short of cash. {To 
Henry.) Quite short, wouldn't it.^ {Winks.) 

Henry. 
No, darn short. Paul, 

His inheritance. I hesitate at the thought. Well, 
it's hard to say just when it will reach his hands. 

loNA. 
{Sympathetically.) 
Certainly. I understand. Now here's the propo- 
sition, Mr. Green. The owner of the yacht is in no 
particular hurry about the money. To him, $50,000 
is nothing. All he desires is to be relieved of it 
as speedily as possible, as he has so many other things 
to consider, so I have come prepared. I have here 
a conditional bill of sale. {Taps paper.) Mr. 
Brown's signature to this will give him immediate 
possession of the boat, payment in full to be made 
thirty days from date. Fair enough.'^ 

Paul. 
Oh, nothing could be fairer. {To Henry, hand- 
ing him pen.) Sign, old pal, bottom line. 

Henry. 

{Protestingly.) 
I shall do nothing of the — • 

Paul. 
{QuicMy.) 
Don't keep Miss Lotts waiting. Sign here ! 
{Taps paper and shoves pen in Henry's fingers. 
Henry, in a daze, signs his name. Paul hlots paper 
and extends it to Iona.) There you are. Miss Lotts, 
and a thousand thanks to you for giving us the first 
pall. (Henry stares stupidly.) 



64 FIFTY-F[FTY 



lONA. 

{Folds paper and places it in pocket. Rises.) 
Thank you, Mr. Green. Your friend appears to 
have every confidence in you. 

Patji.. 
Yes, he has. However, it is nothing. I signed a 
rather important paper at his — his request only yes- 
terday morning. (Grins at Henry.) 

lONA. 

Well, I thank you again, sir. I just know he'll 
be perfectly delighted with his bargain. {Cordially 
seizes Paul's hand and shakes it; then seizes Hen- 
ry's hand and vigorously shakes it. He is in a dazed 
condition and hand hangs limply in hers.) Good- 
day, gentlemen. I have a thousand appointments. 
{Turns to exit, stops at door R. U. E.) You have 
my card. Any time I can be of service to you, com- 
mand me. {Smiles, hows and is about to exit when 
Paul rushes to her and gallantly hows her out. She 
exits, Paul turns and grins triumphantly at 
Henry.) p^^^ 

Say, she's some girl, eh.? {Comes to C, poses.) 

Henry. 

For the love of prunes, how many girls do you 
want, anyhow .? -p 

What do you care, son.? You've just bought a 
yacht — we'll give 'em a sail. 

Henry. 

{Groans.) 
A fine mess you've got me in. Fifty thousand dol- 
lars for a boat. Say, where do you think I am to 
raise that much within thirty days.? 



FIFTY-FIFTY 65 



Paul. 
(Easily.) 
I haven't the slightest idea. (Quoting signifi- 
cantly.) "You should have thought of that before 
jou promised to buy it." 

Henry. 
Confound you! (Hurls hook at Paul.) 
(Heavy footsteps off R. U. E., followed by rap on 
door. They exchange comedy grimaces.) 

Paul. 
Go on. It's 3^our turn to open the door. 

Henry. 

(Comedy fright.) 

No— it's somebody wants to sell me a gold brick. 

Voice. 

(Off R. U. E.) 

Mr. Brown ! Package for Mr. Brown. 

Paul. 

What ! As^ain ? 

^ Henry. 

(Rushing to door, opening it and taking in a half 
dozen shoe boxes. To man outside.) 
What are these and why so many.-^ 

Voice. 
(Outside door.) 
Six pairs of shoes from McCarthy — no bill. He 
said Mr. O'Malley guaranteed the account and I'm 
to call tomorrow for the ones that don't fit. Good- 
day, sir. (Footsteps heard receding.) 

Henry. 
(Closes door, comes to table, deposits boxes on it, 
turns and looks at Paul, who is at C, grinning.) 
Paul Green, I can hear myself saying: "Good 
morning, judge — not guilty." 



66 FIFTY-FIFTY 



Paul. 

(Comes to table. Unwraps package.) 

Well, you'll go to court with well-shod feet — 

that's more than you've got now. {Takes pair of 

shoes from box, tosses them to Henry.) Here you 

are, son, seven and a half-A. 

Henry. 

(Picks up shoes, kicks off slippers, pulls shoes on.) 
Say, what's the sentence for obtaining goods under 

false pretenses .f^ Paul, 

I don't know. I'm a stranger round here myself. 

(Smart rap on door R. U. E. Again they look at 
each other in surprise.) 

Henry. 

(Groans.) 

I can see his star and brass buttons from here. 

Paul. 
I hope it's a cheese sandwich this time. (Calls.) 
Come in. 

Enter Mrs. Podge, letter in hand. She comes sol- 
emnly to table, deposits letter on it and turns to 
depart. ^^^ p^^^^^ 

(Over her shoulder.) 
Messenger left it. Pattt, 

(To Mrs. Podge.) 
Why, svreetheart, what's your hurry.'' (Henry 
picks up letter and eyes it curiously.) 

Mrs. Podge. 
(At door R. U. E.) 
Mr. Green, I never allowed Mr. Podge to indulge 
in mushy language. You must learn to know your 
place, once and for all. 



FIFTY-FIFTY 67 



Paul. 
Say not so, darling. Remember I am your prom- 
ised husband. -^ _, 

Mrs. Podge. 

I only wish the knot was tied this minute. Them 
halls sure do need a sweeping dreadful bad. (Tosses 
head disdainfully and exits. Paul laughs.) 

Henry. 

(DismallT/.) 

Oh, I can see our grand finale. Me in jail and you 

married to her. _. 

Paul,. 

Shucks! Cheer up. I might be in jail with you. 

What's it all about.? (^Indicating letter.) 

Henry. 
Wait'll I have a look. (Opens letter^ check drops 
out; they gaze on it dumbfounded, recover and 
pounce on it simultaneously.) 

Paul. 
(First to grasp it, scans figures, drops limply into 
chair, check falls from his tj-embling hands.) 
Merciful codfish ! 

Henry. 

(Quickly swoops and picks up check, reads figures, 

gasps and leans against table for support.) 

Five hundred dollars ! (Stares at check in out- 
stretched hand.) _, 

^ Paul. 

(Straightening up.) 
It's all a mistake — it's not for you. It's either a 
mistake or we don't hear the alarm clock. 

Henry. 
(Reads aloud.) 
"Payable to Henry Brown, $500.00." (Glee- 



68 FIFTY-FIFTY 



fully.) It is mine — all mine! Five hundred dollars! 
{Dances madly about room.) 

Paul. 
(Picks up letter, reads aloud.) 
"Mr. Henry Brown, 1428 Ocean Street, New 
York City. Dear Mr. Brown: Some time ago you 
wrote me regarding the painting of my daughter's 
portrait. I was not at that time able to go into 
the matter with you, but have resolved to take it up 
now. You quoted a price of $50, I believe. How- 
ever, I am inclined to think that you left off one 
cipher, intending to make it $500.00. I am there- 
fore enclosing that amount herewith and ask you 
to arrange a sitting at your earliest convenience. 
Very truly, Silas Wheatpitt." 

Henry. 
(Ea:citedTy.) 
I remember. It was $50.00. 

Paul. 
Certainly it was. And the old scamp knows it, 
too. But you've got a million dollars now — and 
he's got a marriageable daughter. Get the idea.^ 

Henry. 

(Crushes check into vest pocket.) 
No, but I got his check. (Seizes hat from table.) 
Come on. (Rushes to door R. U. E.) 

Paul,. 

Where ? 

Henry. 

I'm going to lead you to a place where "we sit at 

a table covered over with the snowiest of linen ; where 

the eye is greeted with real silver, cut glass and the 

thinnest and rarest of china, while the cherry in the 



FIFTY-FIFTY 69 



cocktail smiles a cheery welcome and the soft light 
from the shaded candelabra sheds its rays upon an 
engraved menu, while an obsequious waiter stands 
ready with pad and pencil poised eager to anticipate 
my slightest wish." 

Say, son, let me see that check again. 

Henry. 

What for? 

Jtaul. 

It didn't look just right. 

Henry. 

{Taking it from his pocket.) 
Looks pretty good to me. (Looks at it again.) 
Shades of Julius Caesar ! 

Paul. 

(Looking over his shoulder.) 

What Yio\N? -TT 

Henry. 

He didn't sign it. (Tears it in pieces.) 

Paul. 
Good-night, obsequious waiter! 

Henry. 

Farewell, snowiest of linen! 

Paul. 
He probably forgot — eccentric old codger. I'll 
take it around to his office. He meant business all 
^igl^t. Henry. 

(Pointing to torn check.) 
Not just now you won't. 

Paul. 

(Rises and looks at scraps, wrathfully.) 
You poor old simp! (Hurls hook at Henry.) 



70 FIFTY-FIFTY 



(^Footsteps off R. U. E. followed by loud voice of 

Bland. ) 

Bland. 
{Off R, U. E., bellows.) 
Never mind climbin' all them stairs, Mrs. Podge. 
I know the way. 

Henry and Paul. 
{In chorus.) 
And we know the way, too. (Indicate room of 
L. 2 E. and then cross with comedy sneak and 
exeunt.) 

Enter Bland and Iona, R, U. E, 

loNA. 

(Surveying apartment in surprise.) 
Why, they're not here, Mr. Bland. And Mrs. 
Podge said they were. 

Bland. 

(Striving to get his breath.) 

By Jove, I hope we're not too late! (Drops into 

chair at table, picks up photograph admiringly.) 

There she is — a perfect beauty. And you sold it to 

Brown? Henry and Paul peek cautiously out of 

'^'""••) Iona. 

Yes, sir; but I had no idea you wanted to buy 

^^^' Bland. 

(Annoyed.) 
Confound it, I told your stenographer that I was 
in the market for a yacht like this (throws photo- 
graph on table), and now she's sold to this fellow. 
( Quickly. ) Not that I have anything against him — ■ 
not at all. He's a mighty fine young chap; a fast- 
risin' artist, and is bound to be heard from some 



FIFTY-FIFTY 71 



day. I was tellin' him that only this mornin'. 
(Henry and Paul, exchange surprised glances.) 

loxA. 
Perhaps it is not too late yet, sir. We may be 
able to prevail on Mr. Brown to relinquish his claim 
— for a consideration, you know. 

Bland. 

{Whacks table with his fist.) 

I'll give him $5,000 right now for his bargain ! 

(Henry attempts to dash from door to accept offer, 

but Paul restrains him.) 

lONA. 

That's very generous of you, sir, considering that 
no money has actually changed hands. 

Bland. 

Why, the young scamp hasn't even seen her yet. I 
have — and I want her! I always want what I want 
when I want it. Understand .'^ (Whacks fist on table, 
rises and paces to and fro.) 

lONA. 

(Startled.) 
Yes, sir. (Nervously.) I do wish he'd come. 
(Paul coughs loudly, comes bustling from door in 
seeming surprise, recovers and advances in greet- 

^^^•) Paul. 

(To loNA cordially, grasping her hand.) 
So glad to see you again. Miss Lotts. Really, it's 
been such a long time since I saw you. 

loNA. 
(Drily.) 
Yes — fully twenty minutes. (With difficulty re- 
leases her hand. ) But where is ]Mr. Brown ? Pardon 
me — but you've met Mr. Bland? 



72 FIFTY-FIFTY 



Paul. 

{Nervously.) 
Oh, yes. {To Bland, suavely.) How do jou do, 
Mr. Bland? Rt.xtt. 

xSliAND. 

(Growlingly.) 
I came here to see Mr. Brown, not to discuss the 
state of my health with you, sir ! Say, how's Brown 
feeling now? (Paul and Heney grimace.) 

lONA. 

(Quickly.) 
Is Mr. Brown ill? 

Bland. 

He was flat on his back yesterday when I was 
here — smallpox or whooping-cough or something. 

loNA. 
(Startled.) 
Smallpox? ( Glances fearfully around.) 

Paul. 
Oh, pray don't be alarmed. Miss Lotts. He did 
have quite a severe attack of smallpox yesterday, 
but he's fully recovered now. 

Bland. 
Hum! I thought his feet looked queer. 

Paul. 

(To Bland.) 

May I inquire the nature of your business with 

my friend? ^ 

Bland. 

You may, but I won't tell you. I always do busi- 
ness direct with the party of the first part. 

Paul. 

Yes, sir; quite right, too. But you see, sir, I am 
empowered by him to handle all his business affairs. 



FIFTY-FIFTY 73 



no matter how painful. (Henry shakes a warning 

fist.) „ 

^ Bland. 

Hum! Is that true? 

loNA. 

Yes, sir. Mr. Green handled the yacht affair. In 
fact, if it hadn't been for him, Mr. Brown would 
have probably put the matter off indefinitely. 

Bland. 
(^Furiously, to Paul.) 
So you're responsible for me losin' out on this, 
are you.^^ {Advances threateningly.) 

Paul. 
{Retreating.) 
Walt a moment, sir. I think we can arrange mat- 
ters satisfactorily. 

Bland. 

{Menacingly.) 
Y^ou'd better, young fellow. Let's get down to 
business. Brown bought a yacht a while ago — 

Paul. 
Well, there's no crime in that, is there .^^ 

Bland. 

Shut up ! I'm talkin' now. He bought something 
I had my heart set on. Now I want that boat and 
I mean to have it. (Henry gestures as if to say, 
''You can have it and welcome.'') Now, I'll give 
Brown five thousand dollars cash for his bargain. 
What say? (Henry is about to dash into room, hut 
stops as Paul picks up book and threatens to hurl 
it at him.) t 

^ lONA. 

I'm sure that Mr. Bland's offer is extremely gen- 
erous. 



74 FIFTY-FIFTY 



Paul. 
(^Decidedly.) 
Not to be thought of, Miss Lotts. 

Bland. 
( TJiunderingly . ) 
Sir ! You'd better think again ! 

Paul. 
Listen, Mr. Bland. You don't understand. To 
my friend $5,000 is not that much. (Snaps fingers, 
Henry almost collapses.) As I told Miss Lotts, so 
I tell you now, sir, Henry has had the big dream of 
his life come true — the ownership of a beautiful 
yacht — and he would not part with it for a beggarly 
five thousand. ry^ . ^^^ 

XJLAND. 

By gad, if he doesn't turn that yacht over to me, 
sir — well, he'll never see my daughter again. 
(Henry grimaces and pantomimes to Paul an 

^PP^^^-) loNA. 

(To Paul.) 
Surely, Mr. Green, if you have your friend's inter- 
ests at heart, you must concede — 

Paul. 
(Interrupts.) 
No ! Even the misery that must surely ensue from 
losing the true affinity of his soul could not force 
him to part with his long-cherished desire — his beau- 
tiful yacht! (Poses.) 

Bland. 

I'll give him $10,000! (Business by Henry. 
loNA is anxious.) Paul 

(Staggered at the offer; recovers quickly.) 

No, sir; I could not in justice to him accept it. 
(Sadly bows his head. Business by Henry.) 



FIFTY-FIFTY 75 



Bland. 
(Furiously/.) 
Fifteen thousand! (Iona displays heen anxiety. 
Henry clAps a hand on his heart. Paul slowly 
shakes his head.) Oh, come now, Green. This Is 
rank nonsense. Brown has never seen this boat. I 
have seen her. She's a beautiful creature ! He can't 
be swayed by sentiment. When Wlllard Bland wants 
a thing, he gets It — or knows the reason he doesn't. 
I'll give him twenty thousand — not another penny ! 
Take it or leave it! (Henry is once more restrained 
from dashing into room by a threatening gesture 

from Paul.) _ _ 

^ Iona. 

(To Paul.) 

Mr. Green, how can you even hesitate.^ 

Paul. 

Miss Lotts, it deeply pains me — but I am merely 
acting as Henry would expect of me. (Henry shakes 

Twenty-five thousand dollars — absolutely my final 

ofFer! 

Paul. 

{Staggers, recovers, hesitates.) 
Of course, Henry might see this thing in a dif- 
ferent light. But I really dislike to trouble him 
with such a trivial matter. (Iona, Bland and 
Henry gasp.) However, I shall see what can be 
done. (Goes to door L. 2 E. Henry quickly with- 
draws head. Paul opens door and calls.) Henry! 
Oh, Henry! Could I see you a moment, please .? 

Enter Henry, very nonchalant manner. 



76 FIFTY-FIFTY 



Henry. 

{Loftily.) 
Yes, Paul. What is it, please? {Recoils in appar- 
ent surprise at sight of Iona and Bland.) Ah, Miss 
Lotts — Mr. Bland. 

Bland. 
{Advances to Henry, cordially grasps his hand and 

shakes it.) 
Glad to see you again, Brown. I've been tryin' 
to swing a deal through this numbskull pal of yours, 
but he's hopeless. {Scornful look at Paul.) 

Henry. 
{To Paul.) 
Why, Paul. Have you offended Mr. Bland.? 
(Paul hangs head.) 

Bland. 

{To Henry.) 

• We'll leave him out of this if you don't mind. 

You bought a yacht from Miss Lotts a while ago. 

I want it. I'm ready to pay you fifteen thousand — • 

Paul. 
{Interrupts.) 
Twenty-five thousand was your offer, sir. 

Bland. 
{Glowering look at Paul.) {To Henry.) 
Y'^es, twenty-five thousand dollars for your bargain. 
Some busy man. Talked with that fool long enough. 
What do you say.^^ 

Henry. 

{Nonchalantly.) 

Really, Mr. Bland, all this excitement over such 

an insignificant sum ? Tut, tut ! ( Yawns. To 

Paul.) Paul, why disturb me? Transfer the own- 



FIFTY-FIFTY • 77 



ership of that old tub immediately to Mr. Bland. 
(Paul grhis slily. Bland and Iona gasp in aston- 
ishment. Henry lights a cigarette and lazily leans 
against table.) 

{Humbly.) 
I'm deucedly sorry, Henry — I didn't know — 

Henry. 

(Coldly.) 
It IS your business to know. Any more of this 
"didn't know" business from you and I shall be com- 
pelled to engage a new secretary. (Poses, haughtily 
puffing on cigarette.) 

Paul. 
(Bows humbly to Henry, goes to table. To Iona.) 
Miss Lotts, will you draw up a new bill of sale, or 
will this old one suffice .^^ 

Iona. 

(Eagerly, to table.) 

Oh, this one will answer. (Draws paper from 

pocket; writes rapidly. To Bland.) All right, Mr. 

Bland. Your signature, please — and your check to 

Mr. Brown. t^ 

Bland. 

(At table, scans bill of sale.) 

That appears to be O. K. (Signs paper, feels 

in breast pocket for check book. Doesn't find it, 

then begins to search in other pockets rapidly. 

Henry and Paul display keen anxiety as he searches. 

Bland finally locates check book in hip pocket; draws 

it out. Henry and Paul breathe a sigh of relief.) 

Here we are. (Fills out check.) 

Paul. 

And don't forget your signature, please. 



FIFTY-FIFTY 



{Tears ojf check; hands it to Henry.) 
There you are, Brown — and many thanks. 

Henry. 

{Nonchalantly waving check aside.) 
Paul, please take Mr. Bland's check. {Yawns.) 

Paul. 
{Takes check, scans it. Aside.) 
Holy codfish ! Twenty-five thousand dollars ! And 
it's signed, too. {Pockets it.) 

Bland. 
{Briskly; rising.) 
Well, that's settled, thank the Lord! {To Iona.) 
If you're going back to your office, my car is wait- 
ing and I'll be glad to drop you there. 

Iona. 

Thank you, sir ; you're very kind. 
(Bland and Iona are about to say their farewells, 

when footsteps and Sophie's ringing laugh are 

heard, R. U. E.) 

Enter Sophie, May, Mrs. Plunk and Mrs. Podge. 

Sophie. 

{Startled at sight of her father.) 

Why, papa! ^^ 

-^ -^ ^ Bland. 

{Heartily.) 

Oh, that's all right, babe. Come right in. I've 

just finished a little deal here with Brown. He's a 

regular business man, too. I must be goin', but you 

folks don't need to hurry. 

Sophie. 
{Surprised.) 
Why, papa, I — I — 



FIFTY-FIFTY 79 



Bland. 

Tut, tut! You just forget all I ever said about 
that young scamp. He's all wool and a yard wide. 
{Chuckles.) He will make you a rattlin' good hus- 
band, if I'm any judge. 

Sophie. 
(Starts for Henry.) 
Oh, Henry! Henry. 

(Outstretched arms.) 
Darling! Mrs. Podge. 

(To Bland, taking C.) 
Excuse me, sir, but I can't have anything like that 
going on in my house. (Henry and Sophie stop 
and stare at her in amazement.) 

Bland. 
Madam, what do you mean.^^ 

Mrs. Podge. 
Just this. Mr. Brown can't marry 3'our daugh- 
ter. He's already got one wife. (General conster- 
nation.) TX 

^ Henry. 

What are you saying, woman.'' 

Mrs. Podge. 
(To Henry.) 
Y^ou told me with your own lips that you was a 
married man. 

(Sophie screams and faints in Mrs. Plunk's arms. 
Bland glowers at Henry. Iona and May drazc' 
nearer to each other in their alarm.) 

Paul. 
(Fiercely to Mrs. Podge.) 
Woman, are you crazy.? (Throws a protecting 
arm about May's waist.) 



80 FIFTY-FIFTY 



Mrs. Podge. 
(To May.) 

Young woman, come away from that man. He's 
my promised husband. 

Picture. 
(Mrs. Podge at C, pointing dramatically at Paul,. 
Sophie reclining in Mrs. Plunk's arms, R. of C. 
Bland at L. of C, firmly grasping cane and glar- 
ing fiercely at Henry. May and Iona with arms 
about each other, consolingly up C. Henry and 
Paul either side of Mrs. Podge, glaring angrily 
at her, to — ) 

Curtain. 



FIFTY-FIFTY 



The Third Act. 

Scene: A month later. Living room of a bung- 
alow in the Adirondacks Mountairis. The room is 
a handsome one, beautifully furnished, everything 
being in perfect harmony. A center fancy en- 
trance, shozaing vestibule in the rear, leading off 
B. There is a door R. U. E. and L. U. E. Li- 
brary table R. C. with inkstand, writing mate- 
rials, paper weight ; also telephone. Easel holding 
canvas at L. C. A fireplace R. with easy chair be- 
fore it. A fire glows in the grate, for although it 
is summer, the chill of the mountain air makes this 
necessary. It is mid-afternoon and the stage is 
well lighted throughout the act. 

As curtain rises, electric bell is ringing off L. U. E. 
It rings violently several times, then — 

Enter Smudge, R. U. E. He carries tray on which 
are two tall, empty glasses, a bottle of Scotch and 
a syphon of seltzer. 

Smudge. 
{As he crosses to L. U. E.) 
Yes, sah; comin'. (Aside.) Doggone it, I ain't 
no twins. If I don't tote dis fast enough for yo' 
yo' bettah git yo' another boy. {Exits L. U. E. 
Almost immediately re-enters without tray. Drops' 
exhausted into chair.) Whew! I'm gettin' doggone 
tired bein' a bartender fo' them fellers. I hired out 
fo' a valley three weeks ago, but I ain't done a lick 
of valleyin'. All I done is tote grub an' liquor from 
pantry to consumers. {Electric bell rings off C. 

81 



82 FIFTY-FIFTY 



He listens, locates sound and shakes head.) Dat's 
de doorbell. Dere am too doi^gone many bells in dis 
house fo' one valley. (Rises slowly as hell rings 
again.) Well, I suppose I has to see who it am. 
(Exits C.) 

Slight pause. Enter Bill, C, followed by Smudge. 

Bill. 
(Raucous tone.) 
Reckon you're the cook of this bloomin' craft, eh? 

Smudge. 
No, sah; I'm de valley. Dat is, I is an' I ain't — 
mostly ain't. Has yo' all got a card? 

Bill. 
Card? What kind of a card? (Comes down C, 
glancing about him curiously.) 

Smudge. 

A card wid yo' name wrote on it, which I takes 

to de boss and den he tells me if he am at home or 

ain't. _. 

Bill. 

Oh, I see. Well, you black landlubber, I don't 

care whether the captain is aboard or ain't. What 

I want to know is if you're carryin' anything aboard 

in the line of women folks. 

Smudge. 
No, sah. We is all gentlemen heah. 

Bill. 
Sure ? ^ 

bMUDGE. 

Cross mah heart. 

Bill. 

Well, I'll take your word for it. (Goes to C. 

exit.) I'll cast off now and cruise around outside a 



FIFTY-FIFTY 83 



bit. If yer lyin' to me I'll sure find it out, and then 
look out fer a rough sea. I kick up some rough bit 
of sea when I git started. So long, Sambo. {Exits 

>' Smudge. 

Lordy, but he's a unpolite man. {Suddenly. 
Rolls eyes in terror.) I'll bet dat man is a pirate. 
{Phone hell on table rings, he starts in fright. Be- 
lieved when he discovers it is only the phone hell. 
Disgustedly.) Mah goodness, dem bells will sure 
drive me — oh, shut up! I'm comin'. {Comes to tahle, 
receiver to ear.) Hello! Yes, dis am de residence 
of Mr. Henry Brown, but it ain't him conversain 
with yo'. {Listens a moment.) Yes'm. Well, if yq' 
could tell it wasn't Mr. Brown talkin' maybe yo' 
know everythin' yo' wants to widout botherin' me. 
Hey? Oh,. Miss Bland? {Graciously.) I beg yo' 
pardon. Miss Bland. I thought it was de iceman 
talkin'. Don't yo' want to speak to him? Oh, jes 
take a message? All right, ma'am. Wait till I get 
a pen. {Picks up pen; writes as if taking message.) 
Go ahead. {Repeats message.) "Jes' say to Mr. 
Brown dat nothin' kin expiate {stutters over word) 
yo' conduct." Dat all? All right. Miss Bland. 
Good-bye. {Hangs up receiver.) Whew! I'm glad 
she got dat out of her system. I wonder what dat 
"ex" word means. {Chuclles.) Dat gal am tryin' 
powerful hard to be mad at de boss, but she kaln't. 
{Bell off L. U, E. rings. Smudge starts to answer 
it when telephone hell again rings. He hesitates, 
undecided which to answer first when hell L. U. E. 
again rings. He wavers, drops into a chair, dis- 
gustedly.) 
Yo' two bells fight It out. I'm gwlne fo' to remain 
neutral. 



84 FIFTY-FIFTY 



Telephone hell rings. Enter Paul, L. U. E. 

Paul. 

(To Smudge.) 

Say, you, don't you hear those bells .^ (Come to 

telephone singing) "Hear dem bells, don't you hear 

dem bells.?" (To Smudge.) Mr. Brown is all out 

of paint. ^ 

bMUDGE. 

(Rises.) 
Yes, sah; Scotch or rye.'' 

Paul. 
Both. (Receiver to ear, gruffly.) Hello! (Gra- 
ciously.) Oh, hello! Oh, it's Miss Blossom, eh.'^ 
(Smudge grins and exits R. U. E. Paul into tele- 
phone.) Why, I'm feeling pretty good — kind of 
lonesome, though. Where are you.^^ .Oh, at the 
Mountain House .? Fine. It's nice to have you so 
near — but you're not near enough yet to suit me. 
Wait a moment. May, I can explain that. Yes, I can 
— I'm the best little explainer that ever came into 
the place. Oh, come now. Be a good fellow. For- 
get it. Y^ou hate me? (Laughs.) Sure I laughed. 
Say, that's the first laugh I've had in a month. 
(Smudge enters from R. U. E. carrying bottles and 
glasses. Is about to exit L. U. E. when Paul dis- 
covers him and stops him with a sign. Smudge 
stands expectantly. Paul, into^ telephone.) Just 
hold the wire a minute. May. (Places a hand over 
mouthpiece. To Smudge. ) You may take that "am- 
munition" in, but tell Mr. Brown not to "attack" 
until further orders from me. Tell him that our 
"position at the^ front" has undergone a decided 
change 'for the better. One of our "enemies" is on 
the phone now, making overtures for peace. Get me.'' 



FIFTY-FIFTY 85 



Smudge. 
Yes, sail; part of jo\ (^Ex'its L. U. E.) 

Paul. 
(Into telephone.) 
Hello ! Excuse me, dear. ... I won't stop it. L 
said "dear" and it goes. Explain the laugh .'^ Why 
wouldn't I laugh. Listen, darling. Whenever a girl 
calls up a man to tell him that she hates him, it's a 
mortal cinch she doesn't — especially when the girl 
comes from New Y^ork to the Adirondacks to use the 
phone. Now you come on up here. No, I can't come 
down. Very busy. Y^ou won't come.^ . . . Good! 
. . . I'll look for you right away. . . . Good-bye, 
dear. (Hangs up receiver and dances joyfully about 
room.) 

Enter Henry, L. U. E., followed by Smudge. 

Henry. 

(To Paul.) 

Well? (Paul dances to Henry and slaps him 

forcibly on back.) Say, are you drunk or merely 

crazy.? And what kind of talk of yours was Smudge 

trying to translate.? 

Paul. 
(Joyfully.) 
Old pal, the battle is over. She was just on the 
^^i^e. Henry. 

(Eagerly.) 
Sophie.? p^^^^ 

No— May! Henry. 

(Glumly.) 



Oh! 



86 FIFTY-FIFTY 



Smudge. 
(To Henry.) 
Excuse me, boss, I jes 'happened fo' to remember. 
I done gits a phone message fo' yo' from Miss Bland. 

Henry. 

(QuicJdy.) 
Why didn't you say so? (Eagerly.) What did 
she say — quick? (J*aul paces to and fro, rubbing 
hands and smiling.) 

Smudge. 
(Takes paper on which he wrote message.) 

She say fo' me to tell yo' dat nothin' kin expecto- 
rate yo' conduct. 

Henry. 
(Puzzled, snatches paper from Smudge, scans it.) 

I can't read this, but it is impossible. She never 
said "expectorate." 

Smudge. 

Boss, it was ex somethin'. Doggone it, I knew 
dat word was gwine cause trouble. 

Henry. 

(Suddenli^.) 
I have it. It was "expiate." 

« 

Smudge. 
(Joyfidly.) 
Dat's it. Dat's de word, boss. 

Henry. 

( Glumly. ) 
Oh, it's no use. It's all off. She's right. There's 
nothing can. (Suddenly, to Paux,.) Say, what are 
you so merry about? (Smudge tidies things on 
table.) 



FIFTY-FIFTY 87 



Paul. 

You poor old killjoy! She's coming up here — 
don't jou understand? 

Henry. 
(Groans.) 
You lucky dog! Did she say she was.^ 

Paul. 
No, she said she wasn't — that's why I'm sure she 
will. Besides, she said she hated me. A cinch double 
play in the game of love, son. 

Henry. 
Humph! Wish I had your disposition. 

Paul. 

You've no cause to be downhearted. Sophie sent 
you a cheering message. 

Henry. 
(Glumly.) 
Yes, she did. "Nothing can expiate 3^our con- 
duct." That's ghastly cheering, if you ask me. 
(Smudge shuffles to R. U. E. and exits.) 

Paul. 
Son, you're lucky and don't know it. Now the 
literal female translation of "Nothing can expiate 
your conduct" is: "I'm just dying to give you a 
chance to explain." 

Henry. 
(Eagerly.) 
Do you really think so? 

Paul. 

Cinch ! Anyhow, you haven't really done anything 
criminal. Any more than I. Mrs. Podge is to blame 
for the whole business. 



FIFTY-FIFTY 



Henry. 

{Dismally.) 

Oh, we're to blame — not she. That woozie idea 

of yours is chiefly responsible for our troubles with 

the girls. And my idea of a joke put the finishing 

touches to it. -, 

Paul. 

Troubles .? I can't see how you figure we have any. 
Thirty days ago we were living in that awful New 
York lodging, poverty-stricken and actually hun- 
gry. Today we are occupying a handsome bunga- 
low in the Adirondacks, with oodles of clothes to wear 
and plenty to eat and drink. Y^'ou have only spent 
a little of that $25,000 and have sold your "mahog- 
any sea," also are painting a portrait for Roxana 
Wheatpitt. Any come-back, son.? 

Henry. 
{Earnestly.) 
Yes, I have. Everything we have was obtained 
under false pretenses. We've been living a lie for 
the past month. I've lost my self-respect — and the 
love of the sweetest girl in all the world! As for sell- 
ing the "mahogany sea" as you call it, when the 
judge sums up that'll mean another five years. But 
I'm through with it all, I tell you. My dear aunt 
is still living. I'm not a millionaire and I'm going 
to tell it to all the world. I can't travel under false 
colors any longer. 

{Drops weakly into chair, a picture of comic 

dismay.) 
You poor simp ! ^i 

{To easel, pointing finger at canvas.) 
Look at that ; a libel on art ; and I got $500.00 



FIFTY-FIFTY 89 



for it. {Draivs fist hack as if to drive it through the 

canvas.) _, 

Paul. 

(Spriiigs to Henry and seizes his arm.) 
Oh, no, you don't ! You'll not Avallop Roxana 
Wheatpitt in the jaw while I'm around. You cow- 
ard, to strike a woman ! 

Henry. 
But look at it — look at that face! (With a dis- 
gusted gesture he leaves easel, comes to table and 
toys idly with paper weight.) 

Paul. 
(Soothingly.) 
I know, son; it's awful. But you can't help It. 
Providence gave her that face — you didn't. (Forci- 
bly.) , Now listen, son! I'm not going to punish you 
for your raving against being a millionaire in name 
only. Maybe you're right about that; but if ^^ou 
don't finish up this thing here and earn real honest 
money, I shall spank you and send you to bed with- 
out any supper. When you paint a face like hers, 
you've earned any amount of money you can grab. 
Does that sink In? Here's some more. Don't let 
me hear any more hysterical ravings out of you — 
understand.^ We're not going back to that terrible 
nightmare of an existence ! We've got a toehold on 
Mister Hardluck and we're bound to throw him. 
All I ask is a few more days. Then if things don't 
look rosy — well, we'll go to work, maybe ! 

Henry. 

(Suddenly looking at calendar.) 
Say, do you know^ what day this is.'^ Good Lord, 
man, it's your wedding day. Even now, this very 



90 FIFTY-FIFTY 



minute, you should be Mrs. Podge's husband. 
{Laughs.) Work.?^ You're right. "Them halls need 
sweeping awful bad." 

Paui.. 
{In comic dismay.) 
And just as I had Mr. Hardluck halfway to 
the mat. {Brightly.) But there'll be a way out 
of that — leave it to me. 

Henry. 
And where in the name of glory is Aunt Suzane? 
{Electric hell rings off C. They exchange startled, 

glances. ) 

Enter Smudge, R, U. E., starts to exit C, when — 

Henry. 
Smudge! (Smudge turns.) If that's a woman 
by the name of Podge — 

Paul. 

Kill her first and take her card afterwards. 

Smudge. 
Yes, sah. {Starts for C.) 

Henry. 
{To Smudge.) 
We're not at home to anybody. 

^r 1 Smudge. 

Yes, sah. 

(Smudge exits C Henry and Paul to L. U. E. 

and exeunt.) 

Enter Smudge, C, backing in, followed by Roxana. 
She is attired in handsome motoring costume. 

Smudge. 
I'm powerful sorry, lady, but dey ain't in. 



FIFTY-FIFTY 91 



ROXANA. 

(Comes to fireplace.) 
It's strange. This is the hour I am to sit. 

Smudge. 
(Nervously.) 
Yes'm. Take a seat. 

RoXANA. 

(Removes hat and wrap.) 
You don't understand. Mr. Brown was to finish 
my portrait today. I beheve I better wait. (Seats 
herself in easy chair.) It's awfully cozy here. 

Smudge. 

Yes'm. (Aside.) I wonder where I kin hide the 

body! (To Roxana.) Lady, yo' jes' make yo'self 

comfort'ble till I run down to de cellar and git de 

axe. (Exits R. U. E. She eyes his exit in surprise.) 

Henry. 
(Oa L. U. E., loudly.) 
No, Paul. I tell you I'm done with all subterfuge. 
Mrs. Podge shall come into her own. 

Enter Hexry and Paul, L. U. E. Paul is trying to 
restrain Henry. 

Paul. 
Say, son, behave! Y^ou promised to be good. 

Roxana. 
(Rises.) 
Oh, Mr. Brown ! Your man told me you were not 
&t home. (Simpers.) 

Paul. 
(Aside.) 
Thank the Lord I still have a few more minutes 
before my execution. (Exits quiclly L. U. E.) 



92 FIFTY-FIFTY 



Henry. 
(To RoxANA, meaningly.) 
Smudge meant that I was not at home to some, 
Miss Wheatpitt. But to you — always! (Prepares 
canvas, paint and brush.) 

RoXANA. 

( Simperingly. ) 
Oh, Mr. Brown! (Comes to canvas, surveys it.) 
It's simply splendid! Y^ou don't think it flatters me, 
do jovL? (Comedy grimace.) 

Henry. 
Flatter you? Nothing could ever do that. Miss 
Wheatpitt. (Places chair for her, facing canvas. 
She sits, he poses her.) Eyes more to the front, 
please. (Moves her face away from him.) That's 
better. (Aside.) I'm ashamed to have you look at 
me while I do this. 

RoXANA. 

You'll tell me when I attain the right expression, 
won't you.^ (Distorts face.) 

Henry. 

No, no. Miss Wheatpitt. Remember, you are sit- 
ting for your portrait — not eating breakfast food. 
(She changes facial expression.) There, that's bet- 
ter. That is, as better as it can be. Just hold that 
pose for a couple of hours — I'll be through in a 
couple of minutes. (Works with brush rapidly.) 

Enter Smudge, R. U. E., letter in hand. Starts to 

cross R. 

Smudge. 
(Chanting page fashion.) 
Mr. Green! Mr. Paul Green! Letter fo' Mr. Paul 
Green ! 



FIFTY-FIFTY 93 



(RoxANA and Henry turn and eye Smudge in 
astonishment .) 

Henry. 

{To Smudge.) 

Smudge, what do you mean by paging Mr. 

Green ? c 

Smudge. 

{At L. U. E.) 

Well, sah, I don't know whether he am home or no. 
Sometimes he am when he ain't and sometimes he 
ain't when he am. 

Henry. 

You know he's in there. Fade! 

Smudge. 
Yes, sah. {Exits, chanting.) Mr. Paul Green — 
letter fo' Mr. Paul Green. (Roxana and Henry 

^^^^^•) Henry. 

{Resumes work with brush.) 
You may now assume your former pose, Miss 
Wheatpitt. {She poses.) You know this is the last 
sitting:. Glad.^ -r, 

° KOXANA. 

{Sighs.) 
Glad ? No, I'm sorry. It has all been so delight- 
ful. {Pause. Suddenly.) I'll tell you. I'll ask 
papa to let me sit for a full length. (Henry, 
startled, drops brush to floor and makes wry face.) 
Could you spare me the time, Mr. Brown.? You 
could, couldn't you? {Rises, comes to him, gazes at 
him in comedy, pleading manner.) Look at me, 
Mr. Brown — Henry ! Don't you see the conflagra- 
tion burning in my eyes — a reflection of the love 
that is consuming my very soul.? No, no. Don't 
look at me that way, Henry dear. I know it's un- 



94 FIFTY-FIFTY 



maidenly, but I — I cannot longer restrain the seeth- 
ing volcano that is burning within me. {She kneels 
at his feet, pleadingly, with arms outstretched. He 
takes her hands with the intention of raising her to 
her fee-^, when — ) 

Enter Bophie, May and Mrs. Plunk, C. They 
hurst into room. 

Sophie. 
(Gaily.) 
Surprise ! 
(The newcomers recoil at the apparent love-making 
scene before them, while RoxanX rises and hangs 
her head in bashful confusion. Henry staggers 
to feet, staring dumbfoundly at Sophie.) 

Mrs. Plunk. 
(Ironically.) 
You see, my dear.? (Hopeless gesture.) 

May. 

(To Sophie.) 
Perhaps, dear, he can explain. 

Sophie. 

(Half sobbingly.) 

No, no; I'm sorry I ever came. (To Mrs. Plunk 

and May.) Come. I should have known better. 

(She bows head sadly and starts exit, followed by 

Mrs. Plunk and May, when — ) 

Henry. 

(Desperately.) 
Stop ! ( They face him, inquiringly. ) You shall 
not go until you have heard me! What you just 
saw means absolutely nothing to me. I swear it. 



FIFTY-FIFTY 95 



ROXANA. 

(To Henry, sohhingly.) 
Oh, Henry, how can you say that? You will break 
my trusting heart. {Handkerchief to eyes.) 

Sophie. 
{Coldly, to Henry.) 
You see.^ {Turns tearfully to INIrs. Plunk and 
buries her head on her shoulder.) 

Enter Paul, L. U. E., excitedly waving letter. 

Paul. 
{Checks his rush abruptly.) 
Well, I'll be darned! {Stares amazed from one 
sobbing girl to the other.) 

Henry. 

{To Paul.) 

This is my party — and you're not invited. Go 

back home ! ,, 

Paul. 

Well, it looks like some party, take it from me. 

{To May.) Oh, I knew you'd come. {Advances 

towards her, but she checks his advance by turning 

coldly from him. He stands L., a glum spectator.) 

Enter Smudge, L. U. E. Stares open-mouthed at 

scene. 

Henry. 
{Forcibly.) 
I herewith appoint myself chairman of the In- 
Right Club, and do hereby call an executive meet- 
ing of this newly-organized organization. {To 
Smudge.) Smudge, I appoint you sergeant-at- 
arms. Nobody is to leave this room without my 



96 FIFTY-FIFTY 



sanction. (Smudge goes to C, salutes and stands 
rigidly, waiting orders. Henry to Roxana, firmly 
but politely.) Miss Wheatpitt, you will appreciate 
the fact that, under existing conditions, it will be 
impossible for me to proceed with your sitting. {To 
Smudge.) Smudge, Miss Wheatpitt has decided she 
must leave at once. Show her to her car. (Mrs. 
Plunk seats herself in easy chair before fireplace 
and quietly falls asleep.) 

Roxana. 
(Spiritedly.) 
I was here first. I don't see why I should give 
up my appointment. (Dons hat and coat.) How- 
ever, it doesn't matter. (Giggles.) True love will 
not be denied. (Simpers at Henry. Goes to C. To 
Sophie.) However, Miss Bland, L wall say in jus- 
tice to Mr. Brown that his love for me has not yet 
reached an acute stage. But it is only a question 
of time. My heart tells me so. True love endures 
forever — it has no regrets ! ( Giggles, blows kiss at 
Henry, bows scornfully to others and exits C, fol- 
lowed by Smudge.) 

Sophie. 
(To Henry.) 
Henry, I — I believe you are innocent. 

Henry. 
Darling, come to my arms. (Opens arms to her.) 

Sophie. 
(About to nosh into his arms, but stops suddenly. 

Dubiously. ) 
But how about that other — other little matter.'' 
You haven't been acquitted on that charge, you 
know. 



FIFTY-FIFTY 97 



Paul. 
{Takes C. To Sophie.) 
He is as innocent as I. He's no more married 
than I am. (Henry and Sophie embrace.) 

May. 

(To Paul.) 
You are still on trial, Paul. While it is true you 
were not accused of being married, still — 

Henry. 

(Eagerly breaking in.) 
All a joke — nothing to it. After we kiss and 
make up, I'll explain. (Opens arms; they embrace.) 

Enter Smudge, backing in C, followed by Mrs. 
Podge. She is grotesquely attired in wedding 
finery. Takes C. and surveys scene. 

Smudge. 

( To Henry. ) 

Boss, I couldn't help it. I didn't have a thing 

handy to kill it with. (The two couples separate^ 

astounded by the unlooked for appearance of Mrs. 

Podge.) 

Mrs. Podge. 

I hate to puncture budding romances, but business 

is business with me. (Paul drops limply into a 

chair. The two girls go to R. and with arm about 

each other stare horrified at Mrs. Podge.) 

Henry. 
(To Mrs. Podge, angrily.) 
Now see here, Mrs. Podge, this has gone far 
enough. You were given more money than was actu- 
ally due you. What's the idea of perpetuating this 
j oke ? 



98 FIFTY-FIFTY 



Mrs. Podge. 
(Drawing paper from front of dress.) 
Mr. Brown, when I want a husband, I don't want 
money. (Holds up paper.) This entitles me to one 
first-class husband and I mean to have him. This 
was signed by him. (Nods head at Paul.) And to 
refresh your memory, I'll just read it to you. 

Paui.. 
(Springs to feet, desperately to Mrs. Podge.) 
Stop ! You are going too far ! 

Mrs. Podge. 

Say, I ain't halfway yet to where I will be. Listen, 
you young women. (Reads.) "I hereby promise to 
marrjr Mrs. William Podge — and the Lord have 
mercy on my soul 30 days after date. Signed, Paul 
Green." Now 30 days after date is precisely today. 
There he is, and here I am — all ready for the fes- 
tival. j^^Y. 

(To Paul.) 

Oh, Paul, how can you ever explain this? (Paul 
hows head and turns from her, abashed.) 

Mrs. Podge. 
Lawzy, tain't nothing for him to explain. It's 
there all in black and white. He's got a man's job 
on his hands to carry out his contract. 

Henry. 

(Coaxingly.) 
Oh, come now, Mrs. Podge, that paper wouldn't 
hold good in any court. Besides, you must admit 
that we were liberal with you in the matter of money. 

Mrs. Podge. 
(Stolidly.) 
I neither deny, afSrm, admit or otherwise jeopard- 



FIFTY-FIFTY 99 



ize mj'^ standing in the case. A husband is a hus- 
band. That's final! 

(Bell rings C. Smudge, who has been standing in 
doorway C, looks inquiringly at Henry.) 

Henry. 

{To Smudge.) 
See who it is. (Smudge exits C.) 

Paul. 
(Miserably, aside.) 

It's the minister. 

Sophie. 
(To May.) 
Perhaps we had better go, dear. 

May. 
I quite agree with you. 

Henry. 

No you mustn't. This thing's got to be settled, 
once and for all. 

Enter Smudge, C, followed by Bill. Mrs. Podge 
has her back to him and does not see him. She 
turns quickly as Bill begins to speak. 

Bill. 

(To Henry, pulliiig at forelock.) 
Are you the captain of this craft, sir.^^ 

Henry. 
I am the owner of this house. (Mrs. Podge is 
staring wild-eyed at Bill.) 

Bill. 
Well, sir, I got inside information that my wife 
was headed in this direction and — 



100 FIFTY-FIFTY 



Mrs. Podge. 
(^Screams.) 
Bill Podge ! Bj^^, 

(Turning to her.) 
Josephine — my wife! Come to my arms, my dar- 
lin'. (Opens arms. The others betray their keen 
interest in the scene.) 

Mrs. Podge. 
(^Drawing back.) 
I ain't taking no orders from you, sir. Further- 
more, I can't understand why you're not at the bot- 
tom of the sea instead of high and dry and alive on 
top of a mountain. You never did anything right 
in your life. -„ 

My darlin', aren't you glad to see me? 
Mrs. Podge. 
(Stiffli/.) 
I can't speak the truth and say that I am. I had 
a husband all contracted for, signed, sealed and ready 
for delivery. -p 

Ho, ho! That accounts for yer weddin' riggin', 

eh? Paul. 

(To Bill.) 
Mr. Podge, you don't know me, but permit me to 
thank you for being here — with all my heart. 

May. 
I echo that sentiment — also with all my heart. 
(Sophie kisses her.) 

Henry. 
(To Mrs. Podge.) 
Permit me to offer my hearty congratulations. 
Please take your husband and — 



FIFTY-FIFTY 101 



Mrs. PodgEo 
(Holds up paper.) 
There's this one to be reckoned with. 

Paul. 

That is simply null and void. The law doesn't 
permit of one woman having two husbands. 

Mrs. Podge. 
Hum! I never thought of that. I guess there's 
nothing left for me but to take Bill back home with 
me. (Tears paper into pieces.) 

Bill. 
Yes, darlin', come. But I was thinkin' that as 
long as ye have them weddin' togs on, we might do 
a little celebratin' by takin' a trip to Niagara Falls. 

Mrs. Podge. 
Niagara Falls ? Humph ! Is that place still run- 
ning.^ (To Paul.) I hope you don't bear no grudge 
against me, or any of you, for the matter of that. 
I was only doing my duty. 

Henry, Paul, Sophie, May. 
(In chorus.) 
Not at all, Mrs. Podge. 

Mrs. Podge. 
I'm glad of that. (To Bill.) All right, Mr, 
Podge. Like a lamb that's to be led to the slaughter, 
I'm ready to go. But I want to warn you right now, 
you'll not go gallivanting to sea any more. No, 
sirree ! You'll stay right at home, working steady 
at your job as husband. Good-bye, folks. 

Bill. 
(Pulling at his forelock.) 
Same here, folks. Everythin's shipshape now, and 



102 FIFTY-FIFTY 



any time I kin do ye a service, ye'll find me all safe 
and snug in my own little home harbor. 

Mrs. Podge. 

That's true for you, Mr. Podge. Them halls do 
need sweeping dreadful bad. 
(Mrs. Podge and Biel how in exaggerated comedy 

manner to the assembly. Smudge hows the two 

ojf C, followed hy the hearty farewells and 

blessings from the others.) 

Henry. 
(To Paue.) 
Pal, I congratulate you on the sea giving up its 
dead. (^Shakes his hand heartily.) 

Paue. 
It was indeed a narrow squeak. 

Sophie. 

(Poutingly.) 

Aren't we to be congratulated — or something.? 

May. 

I'm ready for mine, too. (Closes eyes and puck- 
ers up lips. Henry and Paue take the hint and kiss 
the girls enthusiastically.) 

Paue. 
(Suddenly, holding up letter.) 
By Jove, here's something, folks. I rushed in to 
show 3'^ou this, but got lost in the shuffle of events. 
Listen. (Reads.) "Mr. Paul Green, Pals' Bunga- 
low, Adirondack Mountains, New York. Dear Sir : 
Have given your play, 'The Primrose Path,' a care- 
ful reading and have decided to give same an early 
production. You will receive my customary royal- 



FIFTY-FIFTY 103 



ties, and as a matter of good faith you will please 
find enclosed herewith my check for $1,000, advance 
roj^alties. Yours truly, Harrison Daubert, Man- 
ager, Booth's Theater." That's the letter and here's 
the check. (Waves check in one hand and letter in 
other. Henry grabs one of Paul's hands. May the 
other, Henry clasps Sophie's hand and the four 
dance in joyous abandon about the room. The noise 
finally awakens ]Mrs. Plunk. She rises and views 
their antics in horrified amazement.) 

Mrs. Plunk. 
Sophie Bland! Your conduct is simply shocking! 
{The four cease dancing.) 

Sophie. 
{To Mrs. Plunk.) 
Now, Mrs. Plunk, we've cause to celebrate and 
we're going to. Be a good soul — finish your nap. 

Henry. 

Huh, that's no nice way for a chaperone to act. 

Paul. 
Of course not — go back to sleep ! 

Mrs. Plunk. 
You know very well I can't sleep in the daytime. 

Enter Smudge, C. 

Smudge. 
(To Henry.) 
Excuse me, boss, but dere's another female lady 
woman comin' up de garden path. What's mah or- 
ders pertainin' to her, sah? 

Henry. 
Hey.? What sort of a looking woman. Smudge.? 



104 FIFTY-FIFTY 



Smudge. 
Looks like a beggar woman, sah. Kinder old and 

P^^^- Sophie. 

(To Henry.) 
Have Smudge take her around to the kitchen and 
let me give her something to eat. (Smudge exits C, 
after a nod from Henry.) 

Henry. 

I've got it. You girls go in the kitchen, manu- 
facture a lunch, and we'll have one grand little cele- 
bration, eh.^ May 

(Claps hands.) 

Fine — just fine! Come on, Sophie. (Henry tahes 
a hand of each girl and runs them to L. U. E. and 
they exeunt.) Paul 

(To Mrs. Pi.unk.) 

Come on, Mrs. Plunk. Y^ou're one of the girls. 
Come on. (Throws an arm about her waist and 
rushes her to L. U. E. and off.) 

Enter Smudge, C, followed hy Suzane. She carries 
a large, old-fashioned shopping hag, with handle 
clutched tightly in both hands. 

Smudge. 
Yes'm. But Mr. Brown done told me to take yo' 
around to de kitchen. 

Suzane. 
(Sweetly.) 
How did Mr. Brown know I was here, and why 
should I go to the kitchen.^ 

Smudge. 
I don't know, ma'am, but I reckon it am because 
yo' am hungry. 



FIFTY-FIFTY 105 



SUZAXE. 

(Smiles sweetly.) 
But I'm not in the least hungry, young man. 
Pray, have the goodness to mform your master that 
I am here. (Sits.) 

Smudge. 
(Scratching head.) 
Yes'm. Has yo' got a card? 

SuZAXE. 

No, I haven't. I never had a card in all my life, 
and I don't believe I'll start with one now. 

Smudge. 

Yes'm. (GrumbUngli/, aside as he crosses to L.) 
Dis job's got me up in de air. A bunch of goin's on 
— oh, I'm all wrong! (Exits L. U. E.) 

SUZANE. 

(Glancing curiously about.) 
It doesn't appear to me that Henry's ver}^ poor. 
Mighty fine place, I should call it. 

Enter Henry, L. U. E. Suzane rises, smiles long- 
ingly. 
Henry. 
(Courteously.) 
You wished to see me, madam .^^ 

Suzane. 
(Brokenly.) 
Why, Henry Brown, don't you know your Aunt 
Suzane .f^ (Opens arms to him.) 

(Henry recoils in surprise, then springs to her 

joyfully.) 
Henry. 
Aunt Suzane! (He gathers her In his arms and 
then holds her at arm's length.) Why, bless your 



106 FIFTY-FIFTY 



old heart ! My, but you're looking charming. 
(Kisses her again.) 

SUZANE. 

(Half sohhingly.) 
My boy, my boy ! I haven't been deceived in you ! 
I was sure I would be welcome ! 

Henhy. 

(Happily.) 
Welcome? Of course you are — thrice welcome. 
(Takes her hands and pats them.) Why, auntie, 
your hands are cold. Come right over here to the 
fire. (Leads her to fireplace and places easy chair 
for her. She seats herself, sighs happily.) This 
mountain air grows a little chilly about this time of 
day, auntie. Here, give me your bag — and let me 
take your bonnet. (Reaches for bag.) 

SuZANE. 

(Withdraws hag.) 
No, I'll keep the bag, if you don't mind. Y'ou may 
take my bonnet. (Removes bonnet.) 

Henry. 
(Takes bonnet and carefully deposits it on table; 
comes back to her.) 
Now, auntie, you warm yourself a bit while I veil 
for Paul. (Starts for L. U. E.) 

SuZANE. 

Who's Paul — the darky chap.? 

Henry. 
(At L. U. E.) 

Paul — darky.? (Laughs.) No, Paul's my pal. 
Wait till you see him. (Proudly.) Greatest chap 
in the world. 



FIFTY-FIFTY 107 



SUZANE. 

Oh, I thought it was the chap who wanted to take 
me to the kitchen. {Smiles.) 

Henry. 
(Laughs.) 
No, that was Smudge. He didn't know who he 
was talking to. (Opens door and yells excitedly.) 
Paul — oh, Paul ! Come a running, you ! 

Enter Paul with a rush, L. U. E. 

Paul. 

Hev? 

•^ Henry. 

Look! Whom do you think .^^ 

Paul. 

(Looking.) 

By golly, no! (Delightedly.) Yes, it is, I know. 

Aunt Suzane ! ^^ 

Henry. 

(Grabs Paul's amis and rushes him across to 

Suzane.) 

Here he is, auntie, my pal, Paul Green ! 

Suzane. 
(Extends a hand and smiles sweetly.) 
Paul, I'm aAvfully glad to know you. (Paul 
gently clasps her hand, then bends over her zvith old- 
fashioned gallantry, kisses it.) 

Henry. 
(To Suzane.) 
Oh, you've got to be auntie to both of us, fifty- 
fifty — you're the only relative we have left in the 
world. 



108 FIFTY-FIFTY 



SUZANE. 

(Smiling up into Paul's face.) 
It won't be hard for me to do that, I'm sure. 
(Pats Paui^'s hand.) 

pAUIi. 

Oh, saj, this is too good to keep to ourselves. 

Call the scirls ! ^^ 

° Henry. 

Right you are, Paul! (Rushes to L. U. E., calls 

excitedly.) Girls — oh, girls! Come here — quick! 

Enter Sophie and May. The girls have their sleeves 
rolled up high and wear calico aprons. Henry 
points proudly at Suzane. 

Paul. 
Come on, girls, you're declared in on this. 
(Henry, Sophie and May cross to -fireplace.) 

Henry. 

Aunt Suzane, this is Sophie and May. It doesn't 

make any difference what their last names are, they'll 

soon be changed to Brown and Green — some color 

scheme, eh.^^ ^ 7 ht 

Sophie and May. 

« 

(Recoiling in surprise.) 
Aunt Suzane! Why, she is — is dead! (Henry 
and Paul, smile proudly.) 

Suzane. 
(Reaching out her hands to the girls.) 
No, dearies. It is quite impossible, I assure you. 
(The girls kiss Suzane.) 

Sophie. 
(To Henry.) 

Oh, I'm so glad — but it was in the paper, and — 



FIFTY-FIFTY 109 



I 



Henry. 

(Interrupts.) 
Yes, dear. But I'm afraid the reports of auntie's 
death have been greatly exaggerated. (To both 
girls.) Say, you won't mind taking auntie up stairs, 
will you? The large room, first one to your right. 
By the time she's rested a bit, lunch'll be ready. (To 
SuzAXE.) Hungry, auntie .^^ 

SUZANE. 

(S of tip.) 
No, dear bo}^ — just happy! So happy! (Wipes 

^y^'') Sophie. 

(To SuZANE.) 

Come, dear, let me have your bag. 

SuZANE. 

(RiseSy withdraws bag.) 
I'll keep the bag, dearie. 
(The girls tenderly escort Suzane to R. U. E. and 
the three exeunt.) 

Henry. 
(Running and calling after them.) 
First room to your right, Sophie, dear. (Comes 
to C, rubs hands delightedly together, grins at 
Paul.) Isn't she the sweetest old lady.'^ 

Paul. 

(Enthusiastically.) 

She is all of that, son. By golly, isn't it great to 

have a relative.^ ^t 

Henry. 

Y^ou bet ! Even if she isn't a millionaire as you 

tried to make her. „ 

Paul. 

Shucks! We don't need her money — even if she 

had it. 



110 FIFTY-FIFTY 



Enter Smudge, L. U. E. 

Smudge. 
Excuse me, boss, but dat lady in de kitchen re- 
quests me fo' to ask yo' if she am to keep on peelin' 
potatoes for ever, or jes' de rest of de afternoon? 

Paul. 
(Laughs.) 
Poor Mrs. Plunk! 

Henry. 
{To Smudge.) 
Tell her. Smudge, to go as far as she likes — and 
then peel some more. 

Paui.. 
Yes, what do we care for expenses — we've got a 
lot of them. ^ 

bMUDGE. 

Yes, sail. (Grins and exits L. U. E.) 

Henry. 

(Tiptoes to R. U. E., listens a moment.) 

Gee, Paul, they're chattering together like a bunch 

of school girls. Come on. (Crosses to L. U. E.) 

Let's go help Mrs. Plunk peel potatoes. (Exeunt 

Henry and Paue, L. U. E.) 

Bell rings off C. Slight pause, then enter Bland 

and Iona. 

Bland. 
Oh, it doesn't matter, Miss Lotts. They know me 
well enough not to be offended at my walkin' right 
in. , ' 

lONA. 

What an artistic place ! ( Glances admiringly 
about.) 



FIFTY-FIFTY HI 



Bland. 
(Wipes forehead with handkerchief.) 
Oh, it's all right, I suppose. So's mountains, if 
3^ou don't have to climb 'em. (Iona goes to canvas 
and surveys it.) 

Enter Smudge, L. U. E. 

Smudge. 
I done thought I heered de bell. 

Bland. 
You did. I rang it. Tell your master I am here 
— also Miss Lotts. 

Smudge. 
Yes, sah; right away, sah. (Exit L. U. E.) 

Iona. 
(At easel.) 
Here's an unfinished portrait of Miss Wheatpitt. 

Bland. 
Unfinished, eh.^^ Then it must be a good likeness 
of her. She was in the same condition last time I 
saw her. 

Enter Henry, L. U. E. He is shirt sleeved, with 
apron tied about waist. 

Henry. 

(Unties apron, rolls down sleeves.) 

Why, hello, folks ! Just a moment till I grab a 

coat. T^ 

Bland. 

Oh, never mind a coat ; it's only me. 

Iona. 
(Sweetly.) 
I don't mind — you look so homey. (Sits at table.) 



112 FIFTY-FIFTY 



Bland. 

I suppose you're wonderin' what's on my mind, 
son. (Seats himself.) Won't take me half a minute 
to unload. I made it a condition that you be worth 
$100,000 before marrying my daughter. You got 
$25,000 from me and inherited a million, so that 
part is all right; but your former landlady tells me 
that you are already married. Now what do you 
mean by making love to my daughter when you al- 
ready have a wife.^^ 

Henry. 

The explanation is simple. I owed our landlady 
money which I could not pay and she offered to can- 
cel the debt if I would marry her. I had to get out 
of it some Avay, so I told her I was already married. 

Bland. 
(Surprised.) 
Can you prove that.? 

Henry. 
Yes, sir; and as for the million I was to inherit 
— absolutely nothing to it. My aunt, God bless her, 
is still alive ! 



Oh, how absurd! 
Ridiculous ! 



loNA. 
Bland. 



Henry. 

Neither one. She's upstairs this very minute — and 
I'm glad she is. I'd rather have her with me than 
any million I ever heard of. 

Bland. 
(Aghast.) 
Do you mean to tell me that you contracted to 
buy that yacht and then sold it back to me and made 



FIFTY-FIFTY 113 



$25,000 when you didn't even have enough money 
to pay your landlady? 

Henry. 

Yes, sir. ^^ 

Bland. 

(■Shaking his hand admiringly.) 

I've got to hand it to you, son. I've got to hand 

it to you. Make another $75,000 as easy and you 

can have my daughter. 

loNA. 
(To Henry.) 
I have a motive in calling this afternoon. Here. 
(Takes two papers from inside pocket and extends 
them to Henry.) Here's a signed order from Hor- 
ace Revell for $1,500, marine scene. Use your own 
judgment as to subject and location. The other 
here is for Mr. Green. He is to deliver two plays 
to Daubert within six months' time. Terms as usual. 
That is all. Thank you. 

Henry. 

(Takes the papers.) 
By Jove, Miss Lotts, you're a wonder! 

lONA. 

Just keeping eternally on the job is the answer, 
Mr. Brown. Any time you have anything for me 
to negotiate, let me know. 

Bland. 

(To Henry, smiling proudly.) 
Son, I echo your sentiments regarding Miss Lotts. 
I think so much of her business ability that I have 
prevailed upon her to be my wife. (Iona coyly 
turns head.) 



114 FIFTY-FIFTY 



Henry. 

{Heartily to Bland, with outstretched hand.) 
You old rascal — I beg your pardon — I mean, I 
congratulate you with all my heart. {They clasp 
hands.) 

Enter Sophie, May and Suzane, R. U. E. 

Sophie. 
{To Henry, not discovering her father.) 
Aunt Suzane insisted on coming down, and — 

Bland. 
{Rises, astounded.) 
Sophie ! Aunt Suzane ! Well, I'll be flabbergasted 
again! {Sinks back into chair.) 

Sophie. 
Don't do it, papa, please. 

Enter Paul. He is in shirtsleeves and carries a dish 

and dish towel. He drops the dish to floor in his 

surprise. ^^ 

Henry. 

{To Bland.) 

Yes, sir, we have a little surprise for you. This 

is our aunt — Miss Spriggins. (Suzane acknowledges 

the introduction by an old-fashioned courtesy.) And 

this, auntie, is Miss Lotts. {Again Suzane bows 

and loNA gracefully acknowledges it.) 

Bland, 
{Bewildered.) 
Pleased to meet you. Miss Spriggins. 
(Paul exits L. U. E. and re-enters. He has donned 
his coat, carries Henry's, comes to him and helps 
him into it. Henry hands Paul his commission 



FIFTY-FIFTY 115 



from Daubert. Paul, reads it, then comes to 
May and shows it to her and they pantomime their 
delight and congratulations to each other.) 

SUZANE. 

You all seemed surprised to see me in the flesh. 

Bland. 
Yes, ma'am ; it's quite natural, especially after 
your death has been so generally reported. 

SuZANE. 

(Surprised.) 
I don't understand — 

Henry. 

(To SuZANE.) 

Never mind, auntie, you will some time. 

Bland. 

(To SuZANE.) 

I don't mind telling you. Miss Spriggins, that 
your nephew is to be my son-in-law — but there's a 
string tied to it. 

SuZANE. 

(Seats herself in fireplace chair.) 
Indeed.? May I ask what that might be. ^^ 

Bland. 
( Bluntly. ) 
Yes, ma'am. He must have a hundred thousand 
dollars ; that's the bargain. 

Henry. 

It's all right, auntie — that isn't an impossibility. 
And you're not to be bothered, anyhow. (Hands 
paper to Sophie.) 



I 



116 FIFTY-FIFTY 



Sophie. 
No. I shall be of age within a short time and 
then we shall be married, money or no money. 
(Looks at her father.) 

lONA. 

(To Sophie, significantly.) 
I may have something to say in the matter, my 
dear. (Also glances at Bland. He throws up his 
hands with a gesture of despair.) 

Enter Mrs. Plunk, L. U. E. Apron covering gown. 

Mrs. Plunk. 

Say, I've gone as far as I can with the lunch. 

Now it's up to you folks to come and eat it. 

(Quickly.) Good gracious, I didn't know there were 

so many. ^t 

^ Henry. 

My dear aunt, this is a kind friend of ours, Mrs. 

Plunk — my aunt. Miss Suzane Spriggins. 

Mrs. Plunk. 
Delighted.. I've heard Henry speak of you so 
often. ^ 

hUZANE. 

I am so pleased to meet Henry's friends. That's a 
good suggestion about the lunch, but I want to say 
a few words before we dine. (To Sophie.) My dear, 
you perhaps don't realize what a splendid man you 
are going to marry. But I do. Listen, everybody. 
When I wrote Henry that I was coming to this 
country, he thought that I was penniless and that I 
would be dependent on him for the rest of my life. 
But I wanted to see first what sort of a welcome a 
supposedly poor and destitute old woman would 
receive. I found out. (Wipes eyes.) I discovered 



FIFTY-FIFTY 117 



that there were two or three persons left in this 
world with a wann heart beating in their breast. 
{Takes a hank draft from front of dress.) Here, 
Henry, is a draft for one hundred thousand dollars 
on the Bank of England. It's all yours. Take it 
with the blessings of your Aunt Suzane. It is all I 
have — I wish it were more. (They all exhibit aston- 
ishment.) ,-r 

^ Henry. 

(Bewildered.) 
No, no, auntie ; I can't accept that from you. It 
— it wouldn't be right, really ! 

SUZAXE. 

(Firmly.) 
You'd get it some day any way — what's the 
difference.? (Shoves draft in Henry's hand.) Be- 
sides, I want you to "cut the string" that man has 
tied to you. (Looks at Bland.) 

Sophie. 
(Happily.) 
Oh, Henry! (They embrace.) 

Henry. 

(To Paul.) 
AVell, I hope you're satisfied now.? 

Paul. 

( Grins. ) 

Sure. Everything turned out just as we planned. 

(Embraces May.) 

Henry. 

(To Sophie, handing her the draft nonchalantly.) 

Here, Sophie, please take care of that for me. 

( Yaxcns. ) 



118 FIFTY-FIFTY 



(Picture: Henry and Sophie, C, in embrace, Paul 
and May, L. C, with arms about each other. 
Bland and Iona, R. C, Iona leaning comfortably 
against Bland. Suzane in fireplace chair, smiling 
happily upon the scene. Mrs. Plunk, L. U. E., 
in chair, sound asleep. As curtain is about to 
descend, enter Smudge, L. U. E.) 

Smudge. 
( Chanting. ) 
Last call for luncheon in the dining car. Last 
call for luncheon in the dining car. 

(They all laugh as curtain falls.) 

Second Curtain. 
(They all pair off and start left for dining room, 
. laughing and talking. ) 

Curtain. 



And Home Came Ted 

BY 

Walter Ben Hare 

COMEDY of mysteiT, in 3 acts; 6 males, 6 females. 
Time, 2^4 hours. Scene: 1 interior. A play of 
high literary merit, absolutely clean in dialogue 
and action. The story is so unusual, the movement 
so brisk, and the climaxes so unexpected, that the 
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if produced by the most inexperienced players. 

Plot: Concerns the mysterious disappearance of a 
young lawyer, the failure of an heir to appear on 
specified time, and the substitution of a bogus heir 
who turns out to be the very man named in the 
will, a masked burglar, and the theft of a mysterious 
package of letters. Rollicking comedy pervades the 
entire action, relieved at intervals by moments of 
pathos, and plenty of legitimate farcical action. There 
is no star part, not even a leading role, all characters 
of almost equal importance. Skeet, the good-natured, 
slangy, whole-hearted boy from the slums of New 
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young bridegroom; Doctor Stone, the scheming, but 
thoroughly natural villain, and the snappy, old Sena- 
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Mollie, the plucky little housekeeper, who hides her 
breaking heart under a brave Irish smile; Henrietta, 
the mysterious and dramatic lady from Honolulu; 
Elsie, the bewildered little bride who is forced to 
hide in the basement; Miss Loganberry, .the romantic 
old maid who is struggling to preserve her youth, and 
Aunt Jubilee, the "cullud" cook-lady, whose every 
line is a laugh. 

Professional stage rights reserved and a 
royalty of ten dollars required for amateur 
performance. Price, Per Copy, 35 Cents 

T. S. Denison & Company, Publishers 

154 West Randolph Street CHICAGO 




VIZ. 



Merry Monologues 

By MART MONCURE PARKER 

THESE selections are wholly 
original and sufficiently var- 
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., reading to music. 
Some of the selections are new but most of them 
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and are now first offered to the public. 

Contents: On the Street Car; The Renaissance 
of the Kiss; Husbands Is Husbands; Oh, Friend of 
Mine; George's First Sweetheart; Bobby and the 
New Baby; Lucile Gets Ready for a Dance; 
Mandy's Man and Safety First; Mag-g-ie McCarthy 
Goes on a Diet; Mrs. Climber Doesn't Like Notori- 
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Ode to a Manikin; Isaacstein's Busy Day; Like Pil- 
grims to the Appointed Place; Mrs. Bargain 
Counter Meets a Friend; Mother Mine; Maggie 
McCarthy Has Her Fortune Told; In Vaudeville; 
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George's Cousin Willie; When Lucindy Goes to 
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T. S. Denison & Company, Publishers 

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Plays for Schools and Colleges 

THE HIGH SCHOOL FRESHMAN 

By Charles Ulrich. Comedy in 3 acts; 12 males. Time, 
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THE KINGDOM OF HEARTS CONTENT 

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By Walter Ben Hare. Comedy of society in 2 acts; 4 
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A POOR MARRIED MAN 

By Walter Ben Hare. Farce-ccmnedy in 3 acts; 4 males, 
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SING A SONG OF SENIORS 

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Standard and Amateur Plays 

Our list of plays comprises hundreds of 
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